three o two, I still remember your room number.
messy room, like the person.
do you remember when we sang Paramore’s song, and you said I had a bad voice.
how are you?
i still feel your presence here.
do you still remember when I cried when I passed the trial, and we celebrated it in your room.
‘congratulations, I’m proud of you.’
if anyone is the happiest, it’s probably the two of us.
we have gone through various phases.
and I have to accept that fact, I have to go through a new phase, alone.
your words that I always remember are: ‘dont feed your own devil.’
you always say that frequently since last month.
things I always underestimated, because I thought you were just digressing and joking.
five past seventeen,
i saw you who was unconscious in your room, hanged yourself.
i’m not crying.
i know that my tears will never bring you back.
apparently, my tight hugs lost.
apparently, you hear the voices in your head more than me.
in fact, you are the one who feeds your own devil.
