I Asked For Kindness

She looked down at her feet, tears streaming down her face, landing softly on the cold hospital floor. Her vision blurred, not just from the tears but from everything collapsing inside her.

The nurse approached with a clipboard. A consent form for self-admission. Her hands trembled as she took the pen. She stared at the paper for a moment.

The emergency department was loud. Phones ringing. Machines beeping. People talking over each other. But inside her, everything felt quiet. Heart, heavy. Mind, shattered. Hands, trembling.

The kind of quiet that comes when something inside you breaks so deeply, it no longer makes a sound.

She turned slightly to her left. Someone familiar was there. Someone she thought would understand.

Her voice came out small.

“You tak kesian ke I masuk psych ward?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a plea for softness, for reassurance. For someone to hold that moment with her. Instead, she was met with coldness.

“Kesian? Buat apa nak kesian? You yang nak masuk kan?”

She looked down again. This time, the tears felt heavier. Maybe disappointment. Maybe loneliness. Maybe the quiet realization that even in your breaking, not everyone will meet you with gentleness.

The nurse came back, softer this time, guiding her up. Step by step, she was led into the psych ward. The doors closed behind her.

That night, on a bed that didn’t feel like hers, under lights that never fully dimmed, she lay there staring into nothing. Her body was exhausted. Her mind refused to rest. Tears slipped silently into her pillow. And she cried herself to sleep. Alone.