Memories burnt. Childhood crushed. Tears dried.
Does it really make you feel better when you hear the whimpers of a child? Are these music to your ears? You murdered my happiness and robbed me of my joy. For years, I've been trying to please you. For you to say you love me. At least regard me as someone, not something.
Fun was never an option. Bruises were compliments. Tears were optional.
Do you feel satisfied now? You took my childhood, now what? My youth? I've sacrifice my toys ,something kids would never let go of, my time to prove to you I'm not just a wimp who would cry all day. With all the dust hovering about in the air as I breathed, I even put my health at jeopardy. I did that so I could move you. So you would be touched. Never was I acknowledged for my good deeds. But somehow, my silly mistakes never seem to vanish from your mind. Do you really hate me? Do you regret my existence? Do you even regard me as a human being?
As a child growing up into an adolescent, I've stayed up till the wee hours, crying myself to sleep. As this continue for a few more weeks, sleep was no longer regarded as compulsory. Even at an age, way before my twelfth birthday, suicide was an option. Dearest ___, I constantly thought of suiciding even before I stepped into teenage life. I realized since I'm a good-for-nothing, death was an option. How would you feel if a suicidal child were to sacrifice her life for you? I reckon you would enjoy your life better with my absence in mind. And even now, after I'm much more mature, I think my presence never mattered. It never laid any importance in your fucking life. Who cares anyway? Even at a young age, I struggle with hardship and suffering. Whenever a mistake was made, anything within reach would be thrown directly at me, mostly aiming to my face. Why? Why? Because I'm stupid, lazy and ugly. Not forgetting an irritating retard.
I remember one day, I stayed up till five in the morning on a school day and answered all your mindless questions. And my whimpers didn't do any good. My shirt drenched in sweat and tears. My eyes so puffed up I would skip school the next day, sparing myself the insults that would be thrown at me by fellow primary schoolmates.
Whenever I look back into the past I see nothing. Nothing still remains.No memoir, no toys. Just deep-wounded emotional scars. All thrown away. Together with my happiness as a child. As a toddler, fun was prohibited. To be quiet when other children are talking lively. To stay at home when others were out to play. Unless I'm much mistaken, at the age of eight or nine, I constantly witness myself comparing myself to others. The joy that lit up their faces. The glow of happiness that glistened in the sunlight outside, with hands held close to somebody. A somebody who love them dearly. Whenever I was ecstatic about something. That something would somehow disappear in one way or another. My joy fading together with it.
Crushed was my dreams as a child. Stolen were my hopes for happiness. Evidently, stamped was my future.
As a child, I witness shattered dreams, heard vulgarities and profanities at a daily basis and abuses. So many problems that I encountered. Problems that a normal child would be banned to see. But I've witnessed it. I witnessed it all. The devastating faces, agony faced throughout the year,centuries probably. You've exposed my eyes and let me see the cruelty of the real world. The sadistic manipulation that hides within it's beauty.
(Have you ever wondered how sarcastic mother nature can be? How can something so inhumanly, seem so beautifully magnificent to our naked eyes? Dear readers, I'd presume no one, it's something called the Earth.)
And I thank you for that. You've reveal the inner cruelty of the world at a young age maybe as a torture. Nonetheless, I took it as a lesson. You've taught me that nobody deserves a second chance despite their innocence. And optimism never helps, it's just a cliche. Just something people say so you would persevere. Also, the ones you've always love are the ones who would hurt you the deepest. Not forgetting, nobody gives a goddamn fuck about how you feel.
It's been a long time since i've cried my eyes out. And I congratulate you, ____, for making me suffer such misery. Tears are rolling at a fast speed and I'm not stopping them. Because it doesn't matter to me anymore. It will come again. Wouldn't you, tears? And all these lessons never leave my mind, still fresh in my head as all the stone-hearted acts and tears relive daily. I can never smile the same way ever again. For every time you hurt me, my trust of others decrease, my strength and willpower to persevere tumbles down and my patience run thin.
When will all these suffering end? Is there anything to halt this? Tell me when? So I'll work my way till that very day. I'll make you happy even though inside my heart's shrivels up and crumbles daily. I'm grotesquely devastated in you. When will you ever change? I hate you. Yes, I hate you. All i need is your love. But you've never even given me your fullest attention. Let alone, your love. Let me not dwell on this anymore. It's not as if anyone cares to read this anyway. My tears are dried. And I don't want to spend yet another sleepless night crying over spilt milk. It won't affect anything since history would eventually repeat itself.
I'm like living a fairy tale. Similar to of Cinderella's. Only I'm experiencing the phase where cinderella cleans and grooms the house at a daily basis. Evidently, my life got stuck in that episode of that story. Furthermore, unlike her, my face is distorted and ugly. My glass-like plastic heels have been thrown away. My prince got stuck in a jungle in a land which I would never be known of, since he never would be present in my life. And presumably, I'm sure death have already took it's toll on him, unfortunately. And also no rats or pumpkins would magically appear. For if it was present, it would be faced with pesticides or any other chemicals that is proven to be fatal to disease-spreading animals for that matter. Yet, I envy them. Living such a wild and free life, of course not sexually-related as 'wild and free' is constantly related to promiscuity. Whereas I am in a trapdoor of misery never to be free.
Why? Why can't I just tell it to her face? Spare me the effort to post this. Spare me the time, most importantly. Why? Why? Fuck, tell me WHY?
It's because I'm a fragile and weak being prone to disintegrate, at any point of time, when emotions are decayed. Also because, even though I've made myself stronger with affection and love from friends and other relatives, you're the only one who can hurt me the most. One push and I break, like all the other things you broke. Splinters everywhere hurting me, creating yet another wound, a scar. Yet another celebration for a memoir of you for me to keep. I'm so tormented, so miserable. Hurting as though a sword punctured my heart. The sword pushed deeper and deeper inside me. The coldness of the metal in me as cold as your heartless soul.
Now I'm numb. Oblivious to feelings. The sensation of weariness tearing me down. As much as I love you, i can no longer see myself struggle with this anymore. The more I love you, the more I get hurt. But fuck, who cares? I still love you, and yes, that means, I'm STILL hurting.
Readers, if any, I post this not to seek any attention. I don't possess enough courage to even seek such attention. I don't even deserve your pity if you are in fact, taking pity on me. If not, the better. I just hope the person whom I write this to is able to read it. With such an advanced technology, I believe it's not impossible.
Does love lie when it comes to me and her?