Letters to the Stars #3

Zeke Orion,

It's so hard pretending, but I managed to do so. I lived my days pretending that I'm okay.

I hope that you don't have to pretend, Zeke. You don't deserve it. You don't have to. Don't be like me. 

If ever you are in pain, tell someone. Tell me. You don't have to endure the pain. I've been doing that for a long time.

I want to be there for you.

Zeke, life is not about rainbows and colors. Some days are colorful, and some days are dark and dull.

When you're days are dark and dull, always remember that it'll pass.

Storms will pass by. One day, the rain will stop and the sun will shine bright and light up your world.

I can say this, because I've experienced it.

I was empty. I was sad. Devastated.

Because I am the eldest, I became my family's support system, physically and emotionally.

I need to be strong for my mother, even though she's foul-mouthed. Since she's experiencing back pain and exhaustion from too much work, I do the house chores. Me and my siblings agreed on a routine.

We take turns in washing the dishes. I do the dishes during weekdays and they do it during the weekends.

At a young age, I learned how to do the laundry. I stopped my mother from doing it.

We helped each other by doing the house chores but it wasn't enough for our mom. Every weekend, when we're doing a general cleaning, she'll give the orders and the harsh words.

I've endured it for a long time and kept it inside. Buried it in the deepest grave of my heart.

It traumatized me.

There are days that I'll feel completely empty. I couldn't say that I'm depressed because that has a deeper definition.

During my empty days, I'll cry myself to sleep. I cry silently.

When someone notices my red nose and puffy eyes, I'll have my allergies as my excuse.

My trauma and emptiness led me to something serious. It made me hurt myself.

I hurt myself in a way where there are no wounds, so no one knew about it.

I heal with the water. In a black pail in our bathroom, full of water... I'll drown myself. Holding my breath for 15 seconds or more. I'll hold my breath under water until I can't.

It was my way of healing.

I hope that you don't need to be like me

Love, Ashia Elio.

Sunday, July 26, 2020