When I began cutting myself, I thought I wanted to die. To go like how the wind flows without us recognizing it. But when someone looked me in the eye like they were prepared to dive to the deepest scar I have, I realized that I didn’t want to die, I crave to be heard. I want to shout at the top of my lungs how sad I am, and I want someone to be there beside me – making me feel that finally, my painful scream was heard.