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

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...

I crave for their affection
I crave for their love
I crave for their appreciation
I crave for them to love me back
I crave for them to be there for me
I crave for there to notice me
I crave for them to listen to me
I crave for their time
I crave for them to stop comparing me with my brother
I crave for the things i know I'll never get
To atleast be happy with me
But it's not gonna happen
I know it won't

Sometimes I wish they hurt me physically
So that it would hurt less as days pass
It will fade of with time
But all they did was
Hurt with words
Words which had power of knife
The knife which went straight to the heart
And stabbed
Which stirred up a deep scar in the brittle heart
Nothing could ease the pain
For the reason that no one saw it
The scar was heavy
So it when deeper and deeper
Just like that deeper into an abyss

She who is afraid of sharp things
Who's afraid of needle
Who's afraid of being physically hurt
Who's afraid of getting cuts
Who cries on the smallest invisible cut
Who tries to protect herself from getting hurt
Who can't stand blood
Who's afraid of dying
Who wants to live
Who wants to explore
Who wants to be lively
Who wants to be happy
Who finds happiness in the smallest things
Is now c*tting herself
Just to know that she's alive
Just to know she isn't dead
Just to feel relieved
Just to escape her life
Just to bleed all the pain out

Im a daughters who never
Says anything to her family.

Who is never asked whether my heart is  okay or not.

Even tho i want to tell everyone many things abt my hard days and still there are many things in my heart.

I heal my own wounds, I fight my insomnia, every night is filled with taers and overthinking.

But when the morning comes,
I fake my smile and laughter :/

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

I love everything abt him,
Maybe too much..
But how could i not love
That voice
That smile,
That laughter,
Those eyes,
That humour,
That passion..

How could i not love him if he is everything i have ever wanted?

I live in a house with
doors and windows
Its not exactly the best place
It has walls
Not love
It has those soft muffles after crying
Stained red eyes
But no one to care to listen what happened
Its hard to have a normal conversation in this house
Every conversation turns in big fights
No one to console
It became worse than before
The nagging were more hurtful now
I started to care
when i told myself it'll hurt me more
And it did
They don't know
their daughter is the most happiest
when she is far away from this so called home

If the older ones cry,
They get a hug.....
if i cried, i got a lecture.
I always appear strong,
even when I'm silently breaking inside.
They say,"you're the youngest, you should understand"
But who should understand me?
I wiped everyone's tears,
but mine were called weakness.
In being their strength,
I forgot how to ask for help

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

I don’t get it—
how people run to their parents
when life gets hard.
How they’re met with open arms,
soft voices, safety.

I used to dream of that.
Of running to mine,
of hiding behind them like a child—
because I was a child.

I wanted to cry in their arms,
to fall apart
and be held together.
But I never could.

There was no softness there.
No arms to catch me,
only the weight of silence,
the sharp edge of being too much.

So I ran.
Not toward them,
but away—
as far as I could
just to find peace.

I miss
the way he called me
“My love.”

I miss
the late-night calls,
his voice soft and sleepy,
but still for me.

I miss
the arms
that never held me—
yet somehow felt like home.

I miss
the voice that whispered,
“It’s gonna be okay,”
when nothing else could reach me.

I miss
his gentle “Hmm, that’s great,”
his casual "Hii”
like it meant everything—
and somehow, it did.

I miss
his quiet presence,
comforting,
even in silence.

I miss
his cheesiness,
the way he'd make me blush
with just a line.

And it’s not that he left me.
He didn’t.
But I miss him—
in every second,
in every thought.
He's everywhere,
except here.

Maybe in another universe
I wouldn't be so sensitive
I wouldn't be so emotionally dependent
I wouldn't take everything to heart
I wouldn't minimize my feelings
And i wouldn't lose myself

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....

Maybe I'm just,
Pretty enough to be "Flirted with",
But never considered for
"Something real"..

Pretty enough to be "Admired",
But never "Seen as the one"

Pretty enough to be "noticed",
But never "pursued passionately"

Pretty enough to be an "option",
But never the "only choice"

Pretty enough to be "wanted",
But never "worthy of commitment"

Pretty enough to be "liked"
But never enough"to be loved"

Always the lover,
Never the loved.
Always the healer,
Never the healed.
Always the photographer,
Never the photographed.
Always the helper,
Never the helped.
Always the cheerer,
Never the cheered.
Always the painter,
Never the painting.
Always the poet,
Never the poem.
Always the option,
Never the priority.
Always the lister,
Never the heard.
Always the writer,
Never the muse.
Always the understanding,
Never the understood.

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......

How can they  pretend like nothing happened...
Like they never said they regret giving birth to me
Like it never happened
But im crying every night
Till I can't breath
Cursing my existence
Blaming myself for everything
How do I tell them
Their words are killing me every second
How do I tell me
I force a stupid smile ever time I'm abt to cry
How do I tell them
They destroyed me in every possible way

Why can't they just shut up—
for once—
and listen?

Why am I always the one
expected to hear,
to nod,
to stay quiet,
when they don’t even see
what I’m going through?

Why can’t they ask
what I feel like—
just once?

Why can’t they think about me
for once?
Why can’t they see
I’m dying a little
every day?

Every time I try to speak,
they brush it off
like it’s nothing—
like I’m nothing.

And it makes me feel like ****.
Makes me scared
to open my mouth again.
Makes me regret
ever opening up at all.

Because the truth is—
they never listened.
They never heard me.
They never even tried.

And it’s because
they don't gave a **** about me.
Maybe they never did.

But never noticed me crying
Never noticed my hands trembling
Never noticed me getting distant from them
Never noticed i tried to **** myself
Never noticed I had no friends
Never noticed the things I like
Never noticed I needed their love
Never noticed my unsteady breathes
Never noticed my voice trembling
Never noticed my tear stained eyes
Never noticed my body flinch at shouts
Never noticed my efforts to love them
And they say they care....

I still remember his hands on me
Touching me everywhere
Everywhere he shouldn't
I still live under the same roof as him
Acting like it never happened
Acting like a loving family
But still I feel his hands on me
I told my mom
She knew everything
Yet nothing ever happened
Yet I sleep crying cuz I feel his hands on me

I never knew touching like that was a thing
It felt disgusting
It still does
I still remember it way too clearly
I was 5
It still haunts the f**k out of me
Never had the courage to tell anyone abt it
But I can still feel his hands on me
Touching me
But I couldn't do anything
I was helpless
still am
Didn't know anything abt it
Didn't know how to react
After all this I live in the same house
Acting like i don't remember it
While I feel his hand all over me every  second

"We were never lovers.
We were two addicts sharing the same poison."

But only one of us overdosed.