I met him.
I finally did. I threw every problem in the world to the back of my head, we hugged and I held his hands. We left the residence with me almost running. The moment, that moment, I was glad I didn't try to end my life earlier. There was somebody still worth living for. I was so happy, and then the day ended. It was dark outside.
I had to return.
I couldn't do it.
I cried, I wailed. Unreasonably and incoherently, I wailed. I cannot remember what exactly happen, but I know I broke down every single false pretence I built up to conform to society's 'normal behaviour'. I was so sad it was painful. I could feel it in my spine, on my back, my stomach and my heart. It was tearing me apart.
He watched while I screamed in pain into my pillow. He hugged me, really tightly. I was so close to him, I could hear him sniff. "It's the truth, believe me", I told him.
With my eyes closed, my brain race back in time.
"Your daddy doesn't even want you"
"Your dad and I will not be together anymore"
"I smoke because you give me a lot of unnecessary stress, I smoke because of YOU"
"STOP asking if I love you, I am not going to answer you"
"You are a monster"
"You are no daughter of mine"
"Get out of my house"
I was calmer, a lot calmer. I opened my eyes and spoke in the most coherent way possible, "I want to die". He was strong, like the man I know he is. "No, you cannot, because I need you". He grab me up and hugged me for the longest time, "I love you". He pushed my hair back, away from my wet, sober face "it's okay, its going to be okay, you have me"
I gave in to his words, I listened to his breathing and felt his warmth envelope me.
It felt okay again. I didn't want anybody to see me, I didn't want him to leave me. So he let me tug along everywhere he went. He brought me to the cinema. Before reaching the cinema, I questioned him "Will you send me away to the mental institute?". He looked briefly at me and replied: "No, that's a horrible place. Even if I really have to, I will go there with you". It was very reassuring. So we rushed to get movie tickets and sneaked in a lot of snacks. He brought me home in a cab, kissed my forehead and we slept.
It was almost noon the next day when I popped right into his bed and let him hug me before he would wake.
I am safe, now. I am safe and soon.. he will fetch me away from this place. I hate every thing in this place. I need a home, I need my home.
My dreams will come to past, because I am willing to get my hands dirty to achieve what I want. Some genes doesn't run in the blood, but that's okay. It's okay.
A colleague told me I had everything easy because I am pretty.
I wished I can have everything because people think I am pretty, that's not bad of a life to live.
*Shows boobs*
*gets into local Uni*
THEN AGAIN, if that's my life why am I still up, trying to study?!
Some people are so careless with words because they think "being pretty" shouldn't be an insult, and their low self-esteem should compensate their loose tongue. YOU MEAN I DON'T TRY AT ALL?! Why the hell do I spend so many nights depressing over my education then?
I'm not that angry though, because she called me pretty, so I'll take it as a compliment *push shades up non-existence nose bridge*
His face changed when he saw my search history,
I don't think he expect me to seek death.
I didn't die in the end,
but I don't think it mattered.
He looked back at me and smiled like he didn't read it.
I hate it.
I hate how he avoid things,
I wished he told me how much it hurt him,
that it wasn't fair for him if I die.
No, he is the 'perfect' boyfriend,
he never gets angry.
So he brought me out under the sun,
hoping it remedies whatever that is broken inside me.
I haven't had so much fun in weeks,
but I am still me, nothing was fixed.
I learnt in psychology that people always return to this fixed degree of happiness.
I think mine is permanently below par.
Do you think it is unfair for me to cling on to Honwee for dear life when I'm in this state of uncertainty.
If I die tomorrow, it will not be anybody's fault but mine.
It is not fair to him.
My hands, warm and sweaty while I hold my tool of destruction. Ice it, so it would hurt less. I stood by a minute or two applying ice to wherever would hurt. When the ice dissolved into nothingness, I put my weapon against my skin, gently adding pressure to it.
I couldn't do it.
I needed a short, sweet and painless escape, but I couldn't do it. I need a gun, either that or balls of steel.
Last week was such a horrible week, I thought about dying a lot. Not that I want to, it just seems.. promising. Fortunately or unfortunately, I was not depressed enough to put a blade on my skin, not when Ashley is coming. I needed to grow stronger, so I braved my week.
I hate how everything turned within a few weeks. I haven't spoken to my mum in a month, it's by far the longest silent treatment we ever had. I told her I loved her. She didn't acknowledge, let alone reply. It hurts.
I can run my hands through H's hair and I see no future, I hold his hands only to see another woman's face. And that hurts. He says its only temporary, and when I become more positive, I will see the light again. I doubted so, but he insisted on it anyway.
It has been too destructive for me to take, and I only wish for baby Ashley to be here, so I can devote myself to my one true love.
It haven't been good for awhile, can't you see?
