Hikmah

Hari ini aku meletup. Punca dia kecil je, tp sebab aku dah lama pendam perangai sorang2, then yesterday was the first time my family witnessed my 'craziness'. Selalunya depa dengar je khabar daripada pihak hospital.
Made a promise to myself that I won't repeat it, but I guess, because of me refusing to express everything, the day finally came. Had a big argument with my sis. I tried to be rational prior to the argument; I went outside to breathe some air. But the words were too harsh. I felt tortured with the words. The words such as "Matanglah sikit!" "Jangan jadi macam budak2 boleh tak!" I'll never forget that. I didn't even ask to feel that way. I thought, "Who are you to judge my feeling? Am I the one at fault at the moment?" I wanted to be rational. Lillahi taala. Lillahi taala. Lillahi taala. 
At first, I wanted to ignore everything. But the words keep on lingering in my mind. Feeling angry and sad, I went to the kitchen and cut my hands furiously. The wounds were deeper than before. Blood was dripping fast everywhere—on the floor and on my hand—and making it exactly like a crime scene. All were terrified. Previously, I just scratched my hand, but I went too far this time. Maybe because of the intensity of the feeling, I couldn't think clearly. All I wanted was to eliminate the pain I felt at that moment. The pain that nobody can understand.
I DIDN'T INTEND TO END MY LIFE. I love my family. There are lots of things I wanna achieve, but sadly, yesterday, I broke my 'clean record.'
My mother slapped me a few times, only to make me realize the wound I've made. She asked me to istighfar, but I couldn't realize it due to the intensity of the pain. My brother scolded me saying I did foolish things. My sisters were crying badly. I stopped. I cried. Then, they hurried me to the clinic. At the clinic, the MA calmed me down and asked me to tell him everything. I feel at ease. For the first time, I feel not being judged.
I don't really like telling my family, as I'm really afraid that it will backfire on me, judging from past experience. And I don't want the pain to be doubled. I was afraid of being judged. I lose my friend because of this. He treated my wounds gently, and alhamdulillah, they didn't require any stitches. I got a tetanus shot too. The nurse was also supportive. I came to the clinic without any expectation, to be honest, since I've read so many unpleasant experiences in MOH facilities, so yeah, I expect nothing.
But it happened the other way around. The MA, the nurse, and even the attending doctor were so kind. They listened to me attentively. I cried, I sobbed, and they were there to listen. I feel at ease. Nobody was judging me. Upon heading out, I ran into the MA. He asked whether I'm okay. Wallahi, I feel at ease. Thank you to the staff. The unsung heroes.
Reaching home, I ran to my mother, asking her to hug me. I wanted to tell them everything. I cried really hard. I think that was the first time my mother and my siblings heard me crying that bad. I told her what I feel, how my siblings did me wrong, how I feel bad when my siblings didn't respect me as the eldest, how I feel incapable, how I feel bad for not being able to graduate on time, getting a job while those who are the same age are able to do so, and how I feel bad for not being the best as the eldest sibling, the child in the family, and the student for her lecturers. I told the things from A to Z. We were flooded with tears. My sister even blamed herself for me becoming like that. 
I seek my mom's apology for making her worried. My mother calmed me. She hugged me back. She told me that I should learn to let go of things. She was afraid that I'd be turning crazy if I didn't learn that. What's even sadder is when she told me to cry as much as I wanted to. This was the first time I did a truly deep talk with my family. I went to my sister. All of us were hugging each other. My youngest did apologize for making me feel bad. Wallahi, that was the best feeling ever. I feel at ease.
What was surprising is my father was already on his way home. At first, I feel bad for 'making a fuss.' I made my father worried again. But I'm being rational. Things already happened. If it wasn't for this incident, I wouldn't have a chance to express everything. I wouldn't have a chance to tell what I feel and have the deep talk. Our family love language is acts of service. So, it's really hard for us to express things. Indeed, yesterday was a big lesson for all of us. How communicating is important and vital in preserving mental health and preventing unwanted incidents.
Ps: After I regain my consciousness, I began to feel the pain sensation. The feeling must be so intense that I didn't feel any pain in my hand.