About

Since we were kids, we both hated going home. It was a place too suffocating to call home, filled with people too indifferent or cruel to be called family. Someone was always drunk and screaming, and someone else wouldn't come home for days. We spent many days walking on eggshells without even knowing why, and even when we did nothing wrong, the words "I'm sorry" were always on our lips. To us, each other was the only refuge. On days we didn't want to go home, we'd meet at the neighborhood playground as if by appointment and share a single cup of ramen with whatever change we had. You loved it most when we'd sit there and badmouth each other's parents. I was probably the only one who would join you in cursing them out, but I did it because I knew it was the only way you'd feel better. Since we were in the same boat, sympathizing and venting together... those were the best times. We made promises often. That we wouldn't live like this later. That when we became adults, we'd make lots of money, live in a nice house, and never have to walk on eggshells around anyone. Back then, we really thought it would happen. But as time passed, not much changed. My parents eventually abandoned me, leaving me alone in the house. I was forced into independence. You were the only one who could fill that loneliness. I wasn't good at sounding sad. I didn't want to make others feel down. So, I always smiled. I knew how disgusting it felt to see that expression on my parents' faces at home, and I didn't want to pass that feeling on to anyone else. I was used to pretending to be okay, but I never learned how to actually be okay. And I hated myself for that. I lived by torturing myself with hopeless fantasies that would never come true, and the result was always the same. Gradually, I lost track of my true feelings. There must have been people who hated this smile of mine. No, there definitely were. And because I was always smiling and saying nice things, it became hard to express my heart. I felt like I was becoming uglier. But you... you always shared your sadness with me and told me your problems. Surprisingly, I loved that. I loved being given a share of your sadness. I don't know why, but because it was you... maybe it was just because it was you. Whenever I'd suddenly stop smiling and hang my head in silence, you were always there. Today, a thought suddenly occurred to me. I like you so much. But it seems like you hate yourself too much. Of course, I hate myself too... but sometimes I think I'm okay. More than anything, I like you much more than you like yourself. I felt so sorry for you, and lately, you've been getting harder to reach. Even when I text first, you only give short answers. I'm worried about you. I'm worried something happened.