When you try to vent
to your parents,
it’s like banging your head
against a brick wall—
one you know won’t move,
one you know
will only make you bleed more.

But still,
you push.
You try to shift it,
to make them understand
that you’re tired,
that you’re drowning
in this numbness
that’s eating you alive.

And they ignore it.
Brush it off.
Turn away.

So eventually,
you stop.
You shut down.
You stop offering pieces of yourself
to people who never looked
closely enough to see them.

You become a blank page
in front of them—
no stories,
no pain,
no you...

Strict parents have obedient children?
Actually no they have children who
Don't feel safe in their own home
Who flinch at loud noises
Who get scared when someone gets too close
Who scream when someone appears randomly
Who shriek when someone tries to touch them
Who go numb in arguments
Who will stare at you when you shout
Who dare to live even in distress
Who will stay awake all night
Who spend their life trying to be the best
Who are ignored unlike the rest
Abandoned , shattered ,
Stressed , always anxious......

"Death or
Freedom?
But you just
Said freedom
Twice."

Yes,
I cut deep enough
to feel alive
But never deep enough
To die

These feelings wash over me—
thick, heavy,
like a tide I can’t swim through.

I can’t speak.
Can’t think.

It’s a curse,
to feel everything
all at once.

To notice the smallest shifts—
a pause too long,
a colder tone,
a sentence with its warmth missing.

The way they speak to me now—
or don’t.
Their silence echoes
like a scream.

Even through texts,
I feel them
pulling away,
getting angry,
without a single word spoken.

And still—
I say nothing.
Still, I can’t find my voice.

It’s been years.
But this feeling…
this tight, crawling weight
still lives in my bones.

It makes a home
in my throat,
and keeps me
silent....

You were the cigarette i couldn't quit–
Sweet poison on my lips
Slow death disguised as desire