Killing Me Softly

He was afraid to hurt me, he says
How funny it was when I’ve already bled
When all the blood and tears have dried
And there’s nothing left except a sigh
He couldn’t look me in the eye
He was red from shame and blue from all his lies
His hazel eyes turned to glass
That shattered what I once was
He killed me with what he called love
While he stood over me and watched
How I slowly bloomed one last time
With last hopes that he could be mine.

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09/11/17

The cold metal of the gun barrel
Pressed hard against my head,

The pair of eyes that held mine
Were as cold as dead,

I didn’t need to be told
What to do then,

I stood as still
As my body can,

My heart beat was frantic
Until it slowed to a halt,

No one dared to talk
For what exactly must be said?

If I close my eyes
Would it all disappear,

Or would it all
Still be here?

The only sensation
Is the cold metal on my temple,

A temple with no gods
To offer a humble prayer,

If the shooter
Dare pull the trigger,

Would I dare
Make a sound?

Or befall
Quietly on the ground?

No one seems able
To see,

The gunman behind
Me,

While he told me
Keep walking,

To the end
Of the street,

Into the dark
Alley,

Where I may die
Quietly.

6/12/17

I’ve pulled out the monster beneath my bed,
Sit beside me, I said.
I look at him in the eye
I let him untangle the knots I carefully tied
My heart beats frantically with every tug of my strings
My fear is rising
I look away, I fight the urge to run
All my life, that’s all I’ve done
Now is not the time, not when his breath is in my ear
And his voice is all I hear,
Not when his eyes melt me into pools at his feet
I fight the urge to cry and to be weak
My hands tremble anyway
Was it a mistake?
Should I run now? Should I shout for help?

Friday, March 31, 2017

It’s the last day of March. And yes, around this time exams are common. In fact I have an exam later today. I used to study weeks in advance –determined to get only five mistakes, if not a perfect score. That was the expectation I have always lived with. What for? What’s the difference between an A and a B? These letters have always defined me when in reality they’re singular letters that don’t even have a proper definition.

I’ve grown tired of picking through my every task and figuring out which is intrinsically or extrinsically motivated. I’ve come to accept that every aspect of me blossomed with the desire to please others. It’s become my addiction. One that I’ve tried to overcome, but could never get rid of.

I’m not one to inspire disappointment in anyone. I’ve made it a habit to follow scripts and recite my parts. I’ve tried in vain to stop but the thoughts of being unwanted and therefore irrelevant is unbearable.

I’ve worked very hard to reach where I am today. I’ve worked very hard for my position in this family. I can’t let it all go to waste. All those years of developing myself and maintaining a reputation –the struggle for reaching perfection, it cannot go to waste.

I just wrote a paper for a class (psych), it was in relation to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Self-actualization was on the very top. Basic needs such as food and water are easily satisfied; safety was never my concern; and so I find myself stuck on the third level which is the Belongingness and Love Needs. I’m stuck here. But if you ask me, self-actualization should come first before Belongingness and Love Needs. Otherwise we become part of the stereotypes where we think and act based on how others want us to –which is why before we ask for someone to love us, we must first achieve self-actualization: get to know ourselves, achieve full potential, and further develop who we are, the way we want to. After this, those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.

A

Navigating The Wind

I‘ve always been different. Whether in a good or bad way, I’m not quite sure. I always find myself set aside from everyone else. I feel out of place most of the time. I put extra effort into socializing and often fail nonetheless. 

I’m told it’s because I’m special. I thought differently compared to others my age. Not to mention I handle responsibilities beyond my reach.

I’m full of envy. That in turn leads me to questions. What would it be like to lead a normal life? Be ordinary. Inconspicuous. What would it be like to be carefree and reckless? Would my heart beat frantically, my cheeks flush from excitement? Would I make gleeful squeals that would put smiles on anyone who hears me?

I’m full of pity. Pity for all the chances I let slip. For all the time I wasted, what a pity. If only I was brave enough to swallow the pain of fresh bruises. Perhaps I’d feel the pride of showing off my scars and reliving stories of adventures.

On top of all this, I feel the need to blame only myself. For not trying to change the course of the wind. For merely accepting and letting it carry me wherever it wanted me to go. It’s just the wind, after all.

My Happy Place

I’ve been having nightmares for the past few nights. So naturally, I turned to my most trusted bff –Google. You’d never believe how many possible illnesses nightmares could be a symptom of. Anyway, it mentioned possible reasons like caffeine. I won’t bother to go through other possible reasons as I’m in a denial phase right now.

Anyway! I decided to cut back on my caffeine intake. From my normal 3 cups, I successfully cut it down to only a cup a day –which of course was not easy. It did get me quite off-balance. In any case, you can take a good guess that no, it did not work. This was not the source of my nightmares.

Fast-forward to possible solutions to stopping nightmares, Google told me to think of my happy place. And I was just stuck as to where that is, or if it even exists.

I can try to think of a place I was happiest to be in when I was still a child, but those places have thus been tainted by bitter memories. So I suppose I have no choice but to imagine a fictitious place.

Perhaps it would be somewhere quiet so I can read a good book with the soft warmth of the sun brushing my toes, the smell of dew and flowers keeping me in a trance, the summer wind brushing my hair off my face, and when I close my eyes I can breathe in and tell myself “ah, this is the life!”

I was supposed to hold this imagination in my head while I kept my eyes closed. But when I tried this, while I was in my room and it was dark, and I was alone, my mind couldn’t focus enough to draw this beautiful picture inside my head and keep it there while I slept.

So naturally, I still had nightmares night after night. But eventually, they went away. I suppose not really, but I’ve successfully tired myself out to even remember or to worry about nightmares. But as I write this, my happy place seems to me like paradise. And it’s truly not asking for much, is it?

I hope to live there forever. I hope to read all the books I want. I hope to be surrounded by beauty and serenity.

If Only…

Growing up, I always asked for a dog. Instead I got an aquarium filled with colorful fishes that either ate one another, banged their head on the glass too much, or didn’t have sufficient oxygen. Either way, they all died one after another. So much so that I lost count how many times they were secretly replaced without my knowing –fearing I’d cry my eyeballs out as soon as I found out. I was a peculiar little girl. I would often pretend to be oblivious –perhaps because they always expected me to be, given my young and innocent age.

Going back to wanting a dog, I’d beg and beg, and even throw tantrums. I simply wanted a dog –a cute little puppy I could care for. But the adults thought I was not capable of caring for one if I could not even care for a bunch of fishes. Holds a bit of truth, somewhat. But to be fair, I didn’t want fishes, I wanted a puppy. And clearly, this is excuse enough.

Soon after, I gave up asking for a dog. Although to this day, I still feel a twinge of envy every time my friends would go on and on about their dogs. I am very much convinced that if only I was allowed to have a puppy like I asked for, I would truly be more of a “normal” kid –as far as that goes. I wouldn’t say it would make me more empathetic as I’d like to think I already am. But perhaps a dog would’ve taught me how love –for all that it’s worth, feels like. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been so lonely as a child who had no one to play with. Perhaps I’d be more of an extrovert now. A lot could have been a lot better if only I had a dog.

Animal