There are good days.

There are also bad days. I call those the broken days.

They are not days when I get bad marks or get stuck under the rain. They are not days when I am broken or fallen. They are not days when I can't be myself or overwhelmed.

They are days when I feel nothing. Disconnected. To the world. They are days when I'm hopeless. When loneliness creeps inside and tears my soul apart. Where my tiniest breath can be taken away by the isolation. Lost in my own world. Asking all the questions about existence. Except one.

"How to feel belonged?"

Telepathy is a thing. A thing that I believe so hard that I never find a way to escape. But broken days. The string is gone.

I keep repeating and repeating. Hoping and hoping. That at the end of this string, the person that I treasure the most will hear me. Hear my pray. My beg. Please lean on me. Please let me lean on you. Please stay. Please do anything so that I know you're still there. That there is still a bond between us.

Broken. I don't want it to be broken. Our dependence on each other.

Scream. I want to scream. To the shallowness. To the emptiness. My deepest secret.

Loud. I want it to be so loud. That it can break through any wall and reach you.

Deafening. But loud enough to turn into mumbles. Whispers. That no one will hear except you.

There are bad days.

There are also good days. I call those the days I have you.