I have a friend who saved me in every possible way that I can be saved. During those days that I used to cut and harm myself. He acted like a counsellor, therapist, and a family to me. With him reminding me that I am not alone, makes me feel like I really never been. He brought out a fighter in me. He introduced me to the world of music where I found my passion. He taught me how to dream. But lately, something happened that had kept our ways apart. I don't see him anymore. We often talked. And he failed to come the last time that I need him, the time that I think I needed him the most. And that was the time that the walls we built to protect me broke down. I send him a letter to tell him how I feel these days, but he never responded. I don't know. Maybe I am just too fucking complicated to love.