it's only after you leave
that I start to see you everywhere

I see you in the empty cups
hanging on the stand
I see you in the toothbrush
stiff from neglect
the ukulele you used to play
and the books that you read

I see you in the empty chairs
at the dinner table
I see you in the sunset
that we used to watch together
the ****** TV shows
that you watched and cried over

on hot humid summer days,
I sit and reminisce
what could've been
and what will never be

if this is what it's like to see
I wish it happened sooner
it seems that I was blind
when you were here

maybe turn your back
on the glaring light of day
these things could wreck
your mind and make it fray

bile and venom line your lips
a wall you throw up with your tongue
spit it out, make a rip
in the world that stung

war is
behind glass
a silver screen
composed of pixels

war is
in movies
muted bombs,
a silent scream

war is
a newsflash
on twitter,
about a country
far, far away

war is
insignificant
easily dismissed

for us.

but for them,

war is losing everyone they love
war is hiding with bated breath
war is a constant ache in their bellies
war is a bleeding throat
war is not being able to protect
war is breathing dust tinged with dried blood

it's not knowing whether the person in front of them will see tomorrow
it's the feeling of ruin when they see their house go up in smoke
it's the taste of blood when they bite their tongue to stop from screaming

war is praying to be able to see the sun rise again the next day

war is not a silver screen
not pixels dancing
not a link on their newsfeed

war is real.

loving someone with mental issues isn't poetic, or romantic
hell, it's the opposite of that. it's running down to her house at 1.02am in the morning wondering whether she's still breathing
it's anxious crying when she won't text you back because you don't know whether you've lost her
over the slightest smallest things
in everyday things you start to see the things that trigger her
you look out for them
so that you can steer her away
when she doesn't talk to you
you panic because you don't know how she's doing how she's faring whether she's okay whether she's going to be okay from then on.
loving someone with mental illnesses is not easy
it gets tiring

so stop romanticising it.
i see things everywhere on tumblr, on social media,
images full of soft greys and inky blacks
paragraphs that romanticise these things
these ugly things that no one should ever want to feel
are being preached to the public as

'deep'
'mysterious'
'alluring'

*******.

stop doing this stop doing this it's wrong it's so wrong it needs to stop
think about your friend
dying inside, then choosing to die for real
because of these things
are these things really beauiful????
ARE THEY????
NO.
THEY'RE ******* HORRENDOUS.
SO
STOP. ROMANTICISING. MENTAL ILLNESSES.

thank you.

dear mum,
i don't know when we drifted apart. it was probably eons ago when i was 7 or 8. ten years down the road and we haven't gotten any closer. do i regret not spending more time with you? not really.

i haven't been the best child. i've lied. a lot. i've broken your heart. a lot. and i've done things that you've told me not to. a lot.

i've learnt many things from you.

i've learnt to treat people the way you want to be treated. i've learnt to be sensitive of other people's feelings. and i've learnt to be kind. from you i have learnt how to care and be selfless. from you, i have learnt how to be a good person.

but i have learnt not so good things from you as well.

i've learnt to stay out of things because it's too tiring to get involved. i've learnt never to stand up for my future child when my husband is calling her useless trash. i've learnt that lying is the only way i'll ever be able to do what i want. i've learnt that if i ever want to divorce i should do it instead of hanging on for more than a decade and feeling miserable, the way you did. and still are doing.

i've learnt that the way to raise a child, is to provide for them physically then not to give a **** about their feelings.

love,
your unfilial daughter


hello dad,
it's been a while since i've ever felt any affection towards you. i think it ended the moment you started calling me idiot and useless trash. and when you ripped my dreams into shreds and forced me into the academic school of your choice.

i love how we cannot get along together without arguing at least twice a week. i love how you call me fat and compare me to my friends. i love how you have never praised me ever since i was 9 years old.

i love how you think that i still love you, when i don't.

in some twisted way you say that you love me, yet you continue to make me feel like the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. i love how you have never put 2 and 2 together to realise that the main reason why i'm always out of the house is so that i don't have to see you.

i love how dense you are. i absolutely, absolutely love how you told me my dreams are useless. i adore how you take out your anger on me, and how you never say sorry. and how you think that fat jokes are just jokes and that your insults are not hurtful.

i love how you think that with parental status, you can overwrite anything your child thinks. i love how you have taught me that the moment i become a parent, my child must do whatever i say and that i am always right, because parents set the rules. parents are gods.

you have taught me well.

-your useless trash of a daughter

i remember you saying small things
so small
they could've gone unnoticed
by so many people

"i should just die right now,"
you said
and people laughed
and said
"me, too,"

i remember my heart
skipping a beat
when i saw
the darkness
underlying your words
and the grey
colouring your tone

i remember smiling
and laughing it off
because i knew
you didn't want to talk about it
but my mind
was racing
racing to stop
the clouds from taking over you

racing racing r a c i n g

but not fast enough

i remember my heart stopping
when i saw
the pills
1
2
3
...
... ...
32

all gone
down your throat

i remember crying on the phone
for the first time in a long time
to someone else
begging
begging them to go over
and check on you

i remember cabbing down
at 1.02am
not quite sure
how to feel

i remember you throwing up
28
4 left in you

thank god thank god t h a n k  g o d

i remember that night
being a night
full of morbid jokes
because you didn't know how else to cope

i remember laying beside you
3 people on a thin mattress meant for 2
but neither of us cared
because you were breathing between us

i remember you
a year ago
saying that people never stay with you
can i be your constant?
can i be the friend to stick by you?

i remember so many things
about you
and
i never want to see the day
where the only way i can see you
is to remember you

it’s like when all you want to do is be happy and get through life being happy and old memories kick you in the gut so hard that all you can think of is leaving the country and never coming back.

never coming back to the faces that will only remind me of what can never be undone never coming back to face the facts never coming back to trauma to regret and to shame shame and more shame

and the worst feeling is knowing that no one will ever understand and always being too afraid to tell anyone and will anyone ever be trustworthy enough to be able to keep my secrets or will this go to the grave with me and die there

no justice nothing but blood and dirt and the pain in my eyes and-

it’s unfair when you have a good night and then the night turns sour in the blink of an eye and suddenly you’re not basking in warmth but drowning in cold loneliness and icy guilt and dirt and dirt and so much dirt and i can’t breathe and i will never trust anyone enough

and it’s okay being alone is okay i’m okay will be okay take a deep breath will be okay life will be okay it’s over and i can forget this i will be okay even if i’m not i have to be okay

it is cold seeping in my bones
and hot air on a summer's day
it is warm excitement and carefully calculated disinterest:
all at the same time

it is confusion,
joy and resignation,
mixed together in a melting ***
made of the last rays of hope filtering in

I like cracking the spines of books and smelling the mustiness in its pages. I like how the lines run down the leather binding when I bend it backwards. I like how it falls open to a certain page when I flip it open, highlighting my favourite passages.

It's like I shaped this book. This object here, was influenced by me. And if I'm not able to make a big impact in this world than at least I know that I've changed something from the creases left in the covers and wrinkles in the papers.

i was frozen in fear that i had broken your trust, and that the number of times i said sorry wouldn't be enough even though you said it was okay