The Holiday Heartache
If only I knew I would be in this situation,
I would choose not to live long.
We are merely teenagers yet here we are,
drowning, suffering, begging
for help that is not to be provided unless we are buried and lifeless.
Why are we trying to be the hero of the story we put at stake?
Why is it that people who intend to be loved get hurt a lot?
Why are the purest people becoming their own demons?
And, why is that my holiday seemed to drain the holly away?
2020 December
The Scarred Teenager’s Remorse
The Comfort of Painful Love
If ever your attachment forces you to stay for someone who is not even worth fighting for, then you are simply giving up on the self-worth that deserves to be fought for. Never allow yourself to be used and abused. It is not a nice game to play— it is a death sentence.
Love is a queer logic when it comes to torn loyalty. The blood in the water is caused by most people confusing attachment from love. And, when one is confused, they forget about what they really are fighting for.
Are we fighting for them, for love, for possession, for loneliness, for the feeling, or for ourselves? What I am certain of is that we aren’t fighting for ourselves, there will never be a: ‘I want happiness that’s why I’m still holding on for us’ — when it comes to being cheated on multiple times.
You’re wasting your time and you’re draining yourself until you point all the blame on them when it was really you who chose your own path. Jump off of the train while you still can, and complain about the bruises and injuries after the jump. As long as you still have yourself to hold on to— you’ll heal.
2021
The Poem That Set An Impression In 2022
Trios Cheetos
You’re part of it, but at the same time you aren’t. So you bury both your hands deep in your pocket to escape the hard frost of the night and the iffy friendship.
At least until the compassionate member of the group halts with their pace to walk along with you. If you are to observe, you can tell that they’re the second child of the family. The one who notices and adjusts most of the time. They’re the kind of person who are mostly mistaken as the mean and unfriendly one.
In a trio, I am usually the lost one.
2021
The Company’s Aching Thoughts
Fictional Reality
Belle from Beauty and the Beast had the ability to change a man who never needed anybody in his life, because the author intended that for them. If I were her and if it were my reality, I do not think I would even be able to survive in that castle with a strange creature.
I suppose none of us would ever have the courage either, because people fear peculiar things, and people are cruel. Peculiarity is a seed that bore discrimination, racism, inequality, insecurity, depression, suicide and all evil things. This is why there is war and death. All of us weren’t alike and we tend to not understand.
Which is why I prefer fiction more, far from reality.
2022 August
The Writer’s Imagination
The Third Wheeler Poet
While her view has the stars pirouetting within, his has her unfettered in it. The scene where she lies on the grass with her hand resting on the lower midriff as the other rests on the evergreen grass a little above her head. Wherein the night wind softly blows strands of hairs over her face with gaze far from him, locked at the stars that live four light-years away.
And this is where he whispers to himself how ever since her, he started believing that stars are as close as we see it from earth. That distance is not of what they own, and that they’re always near each other. But, ever since her, he also began to convince himself that he wasn’t a liar when it came to her.
So close but too far from each. So honest that it’s becoming a sin.
2022 August
The Company’s Sight
My Parents Won’t Know
I do not fear the future, what I do fear is who I might become. All these other teenagers may trust themselves like a journal, but I do not, and I envy them for that.
It is harder to trust oneself when one never really got to meet who they really are. Unknown to oneself yet everyone acts as if they could easily recognize you the way they could name all the rainbow colors—they cannot. The person they know is an idea they created for you because they never considered your own version as something that brings enough satisfaction and entertainment.
Life shouldn’t be like this, we should not be crying, we shouldn’t be hurting ourselves, we shouldn’t be pushing away people, we shouldn’t be keeping distance. College should make us feel sad. We shouldn’t be like this, but we are. And, I blame that on the family who made us want to grow up and be independent because by then we wouldn’t have to be trapped in a house that looks nothing like home but more like a cellar. We want to get away to feel less of a prisoner and feel more of ourselves.
2022 September
The Teenager’s Voice
An Honest Reason
The reason why we feel more of a sense of power and freedom when we are in an empty room, or a place far from places of exposure, is due to the fact that we don’t feel outnumbered.
Having dozens of eyes peer at us pushes down our confidence, giving our mind barely a space to work through. So as long as we stand far from these people who have a strong force that wears us down— we are giving ourselves a moment of what we can’t hold each time we are surrounded by them.
2022 September
The Teenager’s Voice
Bella Refuses To Believe
In order to be beautiful is to feel beautiful. It is to constantly love, accept, appreciate, and to compliment the soul along with the body of which you do own. It is to look in the mirror and not highlight every flaw that is there for a reason— a flaw that makes one human an acceptable member of the human race.
It is to sober up from the addiction of comparing your appearance to others who might as well feel aflutter as you are. I refuse to, because I never knew how to.
2022
The Teenager’s Voice
Healing Something In Nothingness
Each night I convince myself that I am not distracted and that I am just a step away from leaving this cellar of horrible thoughts that had been sucking the life out of me.
I THINK I am healing; once more I try to convince myself but the voice inside my mind opposes my confidence as it whispers to me threateningly: you are healing, not yourself, but those people who come running to your arms whenever they feel shattered within.
I know to myself that I am HEALING; it whispers once more: you are healing these hearts and minds that were never meant to be mended by yours.
I am ALREADY healing! I squeeze my eyes shut each time reality creeps in. I cannot bear any more words that travel not only through my mind but deep into the chamber of my heart’s denial.
I am NOT healing. The only thing I can do now is to comprehend the fact that healing the hearts of strangers is not the same thing as healing my own. I do understand this situation I am in, it just so happened to be so hard to accept.
Perhaps the reason why I found comfort in healing others is due to the fact that I will not have to worry if I do and say anything wrong.
I will not have to be hurt by whatever truth comes out of my mouth because it would not be mine to deal with, but that is the main reason for it all. That has been my distraction and I kept convincing myself that it was not.
2022 October
The Self-Improvement of the Scarred
Recalling Your Call
I remember sitting on my bedroom floor,
locking my gaze at a blade and a pill,
wanting to be found,
not to be seen,
not to be called out—
fighting to speak,
but silence has been my friend ever since.
I remember you asking me to stay,
did you ever truly mean it?
I remember us,
but I can no longer remember me in it.
I have been saved,
and that caused you to be fully drained.
Leaving me tamed.
2022 October
The Wound of the Scarred
My Wine Stained White Shirt
Spilled wine should never be left dry, it stains, it ruins and mostly it creates a mark of heedlessness. At times, I hope my thoughts easily come out as words— words for him to hear and feel.
These days I haven’t been sleeping well. “Did you ever think of leaving me?” ...a question barely a story to tell. Thus, I pace across the kitchen, “Did you?” — on the wooden floor I’ve been glued, my question thrown back at me; this is his favourite dance move.
No, I replied. He’s a man, so confidently I could say that he’ll believe my words. Secretly, If I’m being honest, my answer would have been always
My life’s messy enough for him to find someone else.
Far from his stare, my gaze shifts back at his wine stained shirt. Filled with guilt, I close my eyes with heavy breaths. Footsteps— footsteps I hear toward my stance as I force my tears back in
Cursing my name, demanding what my reply meant; it was mean.
The warmth of his touch was a fire built on my coldest days. His words were feathers battling against the knives of my mistrust and hatred. My absence in his presence was him throwing a blanket around a ghost of mine A whisper from him “this happens all the time, we’ll be fine”
Back at the dinner table he sits across, my friends ask who I cherish the most.
A full sip on the wine glass staining my lips
“find me a man whose white shirt I could constantly stain wine to with no complaint and i’ll tell you”
At them I beam— little did they know I already found him.
2022 December
The Writer’s Imagination
When Venus Stops Winking
There once was a promise, a promise to myself. By the time Venus decides to finally stop winking at me then my garden of hatred can freely decay in peace, either let it be flamed to ashes.
Ever since I was a little child I have always been terrified of the world. I feared it as one of the places that was too messy for a kid like me. The world for me was too big, perhaps the reason why I struggled to be confident– she felt too tiny to be seen.
Those days when the world caught a glimpse of my existence, it would feel like I was being constantly kept an eye on and silently judged. At that very moment, hatred grew in me like a rose but with thick thorns that ruthlessly made me bleed as it pressed into my skin, then down into my heart, and finally deep into my soul.
We certainly may be just a complete unknown in the eyes of fellow strangers. However, I have always feared the likelihood of being seen as a stranger by the people who I figured to know me damn well.
That introspection made me presume myself as one with the sky, so far beyond reach yet too near to see its vastness. This dragged me to the realization that even if I may not see the entirety of my soul it is possible that in the eye of some stranger, I was admired like I was one with the blending of colours in the sky.
Maybe at some point, I was viewed from a mountain, from a lake, from the ocean, and by the shore. Perhaps they saw me as a confident, beautiful, and bold soul. Hopefully, they did not see the beast that I name my reflection and people had clearer lenses than mine.
I lived with the hatred for years and its greatest target will forever be me. Therefore, I found that my hatred can only be eased and that I will not have to hate my reflection only if only somebody showered me with what they could see in me.
2022 December
The Curiosity of the Scarred
My Family’s Enemy
My family hates me, in fact, who wouldn’t?
Blankly, I stare at the darkened sky as I stand by the shore barefoot. The wind blows as if it intends to soothe the weight on my chest. My smile isn’t with me... I must’ve left it back at the counter. Even my eyes won’t care to look around as it wishes to stare down my feet all night long— God, they hate me.
No one knows on how many nights I spent standing by this same beach— alone.. past my curfew, my notifications blowing up, thousands of missed calls, scent of liquor lingering on my dirty school uniform, my friendships on a thread, my grades falling apart, body growing tired, missing assignments, my image being tarnished and my family going astray. God, they hate me.
To be honest, I have no idea of where all my potential went. Each time I heard my sisters’ voice, all I could ever hear were their silent judgments piercing through my soul; “You changed so much.” — I know I did, and I don’t even know when, how and why.
I could apologize forever, and still not know the reason why. Every time I got home it would feel like I was a lost cat entering someone else's home, trying to find her owner, who was never even there in the first place, begging to be kept, but then she constantly ends up being spooked away by whispers. I could keep running away and pretend that I am far from not being okay, but the more I do the more they would see me differently— God, they hate me.
I hate myself for thinking that they hate me.
2023 March
The Little Girl’s Burden
Our Friendship Gap
I don't want to hurt your feelings anymore, I know I've already said too much. And, I hate to give you another version of myself wherein you would see me as a foreign soul— a soul you’d claim to not recognize for the honesty I would offer.
We all change, even me, and that’s okay. I saw you as someone who I could tell anything about without having to worry if it would be a cause for your madness, sadness, happiness, disappointment, and along with every possible feeling one human may keep. And so, I stopped lingering around, quite sleeping at your house, and avoided laughing or even sharing food with you. It just came to the point where my patience stopped keeping us both alive.
And, there is guilt with this hurt I feel towards you. I guess we all come to a change, I just wanted to let this all out. But, remember when you said I was the first person you had the courage to cry to ?? I miss that, and I miss you too.
2023 March
The Company’s Side
The Crazy Parents Moved In to My Pages
It is a struggle for me to stay in the same place with my parents. I'm not sure why but it may be because I never really grew up and was never fond of their presence. Mostly, I found comfort in their absence. I get easily irritated when I catch a glimpse of them and be given the knowledge that I would be spending days, weeks or months with them.
Vacation should also be one of the most exciting events in my life, but for some reason, I am willing to miss it just to ease the trepidation of being around them. I am uncertain if this makes me a bad person but who cares, it is not like they trained my body and mind to adapt to their presence.
P.S. I can handle one parent, but having them on both sides suffocates. I guess I just loathe the idea, fact, and possibility that they would break each other's heart and soul in front of me like they always do and then apologize for being such crazy parents. I won't ever forget how I stood and froze in time way too many times. May it be with my biological father and stepdad, personal or on screen– they killed my childhood.
Since when did the pages accept convicts like my parents
and ever forget the orphan they sent
away to a scarred place I turned sacred?
How did my parents move in to my pages,
did I leave the windows open, again?
2023 June
The Little Girl’s Secret
Tried and Lied
Dear Sickness,
Keep your distance. I tried to kiss you and I lied– I never wanted to ever, ever be near you. Perhaps, the chase was a satisfying distraction, however, it was time to stop so I had to run away. I tried to kiss your sister, Death, so thankful she did not let me.
I lied about wanting you, Sickness, we can say it’s over now. My pining had come to an end and it endowed me with an extraordinary package of lessons. I have kept my distance for a year now, if I may ask you. Why are you taking a hold of me now? I thought we ended things pleasingly, but here you are causing aches to my mind and body.
SET ME FREE.
HEALTHY.
ALIVE.
please.
2023 June
The Sick Little Girl’s Request
The Crowd Of Words
My words filled these pages,
pages you turned
with the trust we both earned
My soul lived in silence silence
only the pages could hear
yet you found my forest,
the forest where my seed of words grew,
grew to quiet all our fears
Too much had been said
a lot of things were shared
I saw my limit
and I saw the end
I hated the crowd
but I never thought a crowd of my own words
would even scare me down
and so goodbye
do hope to hear from me
don’t cry
2023
Farewell