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Friday, September 25, 2015 @ 5:27 pm
Some people really need to stop kicking up a huge ass fuss over tiny shits.You made it happen, smashed me into smithereens and left me to pick up my own pieces. And there you are, happily walking out of trouble. Carefree, unburdened. I wish I could be just a little like you. @ 2:02 am
Thoughts sift their way through every second, but emotions are always fresh, especially post-mortem.A busted lip, a swollen face, teary eyes, and a heart full of shame. I never considered myself a victim -- it would take a whole lot more to be as unfortunate. Things took a sharp painful turn tonight. What seemed so surreal and unfathomable once finally stood out starkly. This time I finally understand. I spoke up for myself and for her as I always did, because I felt that things weren't the way that she thought it was. I spoke up because I felt wronged, and because He was wrong. But it seemed that He would never be wrong. Things took a dull, painless turn. One moment a hand full of vengeance was raised and sent across my mouth. It took just one action to dam the onslaught of my innocuous pleas. All I wanted was peace and quiet. I thought it would stop there. Unusually, one action did not suffice. He trembled, shaking with fury, lunged forward and wrapped His arms around my neck and shook long and hard. It never seemed it was going to stop; for a moment there was a genuine intent to kill. My world plunged instantaneously into scotophobia, and would never meet daylight ever since. In defence, I wrapped myself up in a foetal position -- a feeble attempt to evade harm; instincts made every inch of muscle fibre in me so tense, every drop of blood freeze. My fingers went sickly numb. For an instant my mind went painfully blank, definitely unsure of how to react to a murder. Before I knew it, I went completely wild, hiding under a wet towel struggling to keep every inch of my skin to myself. I threw the towel over my face and head, ripping my eyes out as the baffled tears broke out of their every own locked-up cell. I huddled my head with both hands and yearned to forget the image of the hateful eyes peering deep into my soul and prying open my living self. The next moment I sandpapered the towel against my forearms violently, then anywhere that was exposed to His touch, possessed by the determination to protect my feeble self from harm. I wanted to be cleansed, free of evil. The torture was real, and so was the taste of blood and tears combined; I morphed into something I never imagined I could be all this while. Never in my life have I felt more vulnerable. The tears couldn't stop, and my cries, too. They were like nothing before, sounding so deathly and haunting, so weak and lost. It scared me. It scared everyone around me. A while later I found myself in Her arms, in a sorrowful and agonised attempt to cease the violent convulsions. My mind became a whirlpool while I relished in the living fear. At the back of my mind he continued hurling flagrant insults that never mattered to me anymore. I wanted to run away. I wanted to hide. But my legs wouldn't bring me anywhere. Sufficiently hidden, yet so naked and exposed. The feeling of impending doom was so new. I desperately want to avoid His gaze forever. I desperately want to forget the tight clench on my neck like a vice. But the murder scenes kept replaying in my mind like a quiet story left untold as I lay awake. I can't go to bed. I want to run away from this fear forever. But there's only one way to do all that. It's do or die. When I close my eyes again, the darkness envelops me. You're not stronger if you can fight back. You're not weaker if you keep mum. I guess people who care most always get hurt the most. Time and again. But we still want to care. Thursday, September 24, 2015 @ 3:16 am
It's amazing how some things can change literally overnight. As humans we always do what we do best -- being unpredictable.
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