Melancholy

There once was a girl who loves broken things. She collects all the damaged things and keep them in her nightstand. Her room was full of duct tapes, glue and band aids.

The urge to restore them was so strong that it makes her desperate at 3 in the morning. Desperate to hear the sound of duct tape being peeled off, to feel the stickiness of glue on her fingertips or the bittersweet feeling of removing a band aid from a wound just to see if it has heeled or not.

Her life was between imperfect and destroyed things. She was living in the state of being okay and not being okay and some days were better than others.

But then, there are days when she just sit on her bed after turning all the mirrors of her room around, just numb and emotionless. She try to find something broken in her nightstand, so she can mend it. She try to distract herself from this terrible feeling of sadness she is falling in again.

If you'll ask her, "What's wrong?" She'll probably smile and shakes her head because she don't know what's wrong. She just fell in love with this sadness, this melancholy and she didn't want to fall out of love. She's holding onto that love with everything she got, she's clinging to it with her life because it's the only thing that loves her. Everyone leaves, but this sadness stays, it always comes back. How can she betray the only thing that loves her?

I hope a night comes, when she has this urge to mend a broken thing and everything is already restored. Maybe then, she'll look inside herself and realize that she can fix herself now. That everything is perfect and she can be whole again. But no, knowing her, she's break every single thing in the room just to have something to repair.