withered flowers

It’s been the fourth day my sickness is not getting well. I’ve drunk several medicines, and nothing works on my body, so I just let my body be. I am exhausted. I told my friend I was sick and strangely not getting any better besides all the medicine I took. She asked, “are you unhappy?”, I didn’t answer her question. I talked to my other friend, she told me about how she is petrified due to her parent’s failed marriage, then she asked me “what makes you unhappy?”. I got an eerie feeling being asked with same question two times by a different person. As if the universe never let me run away from the feelings I don’t want to acknowledge. I have never been able to escape from my feelings. It took a few minutes before I answered. She keeps asking, “what makes you feel depressed often?”.
I took a deep breath before I type the answer, just like a suspect who has to face the judge in court. “ I feel like the world is evil and cold, and love is about duty and responsibility. I couldn’t find the warmth that I held tightly before as I face the world. I’ve always thought that I’m born to be a flower, when I couldn’t get the warmth from the sunrays, I will get withered and dry. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t find that sunray and we are getting older. I’ve been wondering will all of our dreams come true? I don’t know whether the universe will let me do and be the things that I like. Because I know, life is harsh, and not every dream is realized, and not every wish is granted. But when the days come, will I have a little warmth to bear with it and keep on living? I’ve been living in sorrow in the past, will I have to face it again for the rest of my life? I want to bloom, dear. I want to be pretty and fragrant for people around me but
I could only give it when I feel enough warmth for me, and now I have none.”

We stopped the conversation.

My heart feels heavy. I always hate admitting my feeling, it feels like I’m being chained to a 20kg rock and being thrown out to a deep abyss. I know no one can help me but myself. I see myself withering, and all the colors and life is being sucked out of me. Deep within me i know I’m supposed to be a flower, but what can i do when people pick flowers for themselves and let them wither and dry and die.