"You play it perfectly, just like a recipe. But I don't want it perfect, I want it your way. Spread some identity over it".
She gives me an advice and I lose myself.

Pianissimo/Andante

I am ten years old. My parents had an argue. I reach for my mother with a glass of water, my brother is at school. With my right hand I set the glass in front of her, with my left hand I caress her shoulder. She screams at me and shove the glass on the ground. I am my mother's spilled water.
This is a memory.

Mezzo-forte/Vivace

I am thirteen years old. My father takes me to lunch. The whole time he complains about life and how things are going nowhere with my mother, still we have a good time together. With my right hand I hold the chopsticks, with my left hand I play with the napkin. Our eyes never cross, but we are in touch. I am at peace with them both. I am my father's cigarettes.
This is a lie.

Mezzo-piano/Andante

I am fourteen years old. My brother takes me to the movies everytime things get bad at home. Sometimes we watch two or three movies in a row, never go back before sunset. With my right hand I hold a cup of ice tea, with my left hand I check on his phone. I am my brother's merciful escapes.
This is an illusion.

"Did you hear me? You did a great job! Start practicing changing the dynamic, how does that sound?"

I thank her and leave. Such standard words, she must say them to many more students, no idea the impact they caused on me. I guess I am just doomed to overthinking anything at all. You see, that's the deal. With the right hand, play the melody, with the left hand, play the harmony. I guess I've been focused on the melody, in a world run by the harmony.
On my way home I stop to buy a pack of cigarettes. I light one up and set it on a table, watch it burning. I've quit smoking sometime ago, never really cared for the rush, much less for the taste. After all it's just about seeing how easy the smoke flies by.
I guess I will change the dynamic. From now on:

Crescendo

If you could look into the mind of an OCD sufferer, what would you see?
You would see bravery and fear fighting it out.
One side of the mind trying to reason with the other.
If you tell us to get on with it, it's because you don't see the amount of strength and determination that it takes to overcome a mental illness.

Why do I live?
I can count the number of times I've been happy on both hands.

Why don't I die?
It would be really easy to **** myself, I realise this.

But when I press the cold steel to my flesh.
I hesitate.

Death seems to be the ultimate thing I crave.
But my greatest fear.

I've spent too many nights sobbing into my pillow.
So I ask myself.

Why do I live?
I like seeing my family happy.

Why?
I like seeing my friends happy.

Why?
I like seeing anybody happy.

Why?
I hate seeing them upset.

Will I ever be truly satisfied?
I doubt it.

But, I want to try.

Why do I live?
I live not for myself. But I live for others.

Why don't I die?
Even though I don't believe it, people will be upset once I'm gone.

So when I press the cold steel to my flesh.
I put the knife away.

Death seems to be the ultimate thing I crave.
But if I let the urge completely erode me I will never be happy.

Happiness doesn't start once you die.
It happens when you learn to live.

To: Past Me
From: Future You

Hello, my past self.
I hope you’re doing well.
But then again,
I know you’re not.
Because I was you,
And you are me.

I know about all the smiles you’ve had to fake.
I know about all the silent tears your pillow is stained with.
I know about all the people you’ve loved and all you’ve lost.
I remember it all.

But listen,
It doesn’t get easier.
You will still go through hard times.
People will still leave you.
You will still feel sad sometimes.

It may not get easier...
But you do get stronger.
Strong enough to overcome it all.
The pain.
The tears.
The obstacles.

Small things won’t hurt you anymore.
Every rock in your way will turn into a pebble.
People will go and others will come.
But you'll be alright.

You’ll grow stronger.
You'll be wiser.
You'll get bigger (not in height though, we shall always be 5’2)
It may not get easier but you will be happy.
Of that I am sure.

So past self I tell you.
Dry your tears. You’re not alone.
You’ll be surprised of all you’ll overcome.
                                                                                         Love,
                                                                                         Future You ;)

She was a girl so tough,
Soft inside but showed to be rough,
Out came her vulnerable side,
Just during the tranquil nights.

Known as the girl who plays basketball,
But when alone, the poet inside her calls.
She must avoid the dove,
To not fall in love.

But every story has a prince charming,
Sometimes serving as a warning.
And there came one for her,
Who made her lose all her nerve.

He treated her like a princess,
But had his benefit in that.
His princesses were many,
The girl didn't know any.

Found out he cheated,
Though her heart bled,
She got up and took her pen,
And now the boy is a mere fan.....

to break boundaries
redefine limits
exceed expectations
sculpt the future
to not only survive
but to thrive
in a world that wants
to hold us back

all while bleeding.

Sometimes
I hate everything about me
And I sit
In my room
In a house where I am clearly loved
And remember
The words that dripped from her tongue
Like venom
Like surgically sharp blades
Cutting out my innocence
Systemically
Piece by piece
Until she was gone
That little girl that she was supposed to love
Protect
Keep from harm
Those words!
You are nothing
No one will ever love you
You are disgusting
Don't tell anyone
Keep quiet
Nobody will believe you
And I think, once again, that she was right
I know what she was
A monster
An abusive stealer of souls
But still
I blame me
It's my fault
It's my fault
It's my fault
But then I hear footsteps on the stairs
Of our beautiful home
And you Take me in your arms
Wordlessly at first
And as I melt into you
You say the words I need to believe
I'm proud of you
I love you
It wasn't your fault
You matter
And I know I have finally found home.

i used to lay
on the hard sidewalk
sandwiched between the street
and the subway station
in the early morning
and feel the rhythmic
tap
    tap
       tap
of each step
of each passerby
wondering for each
what are your struggles
your everyday fight
what breaks you
and defeats your pupose
then i stay
and wait
until the familiar faces
pass by again
and by now
it is dark
and cold
when they walk by
i wonder once more
what reminded you to live today
what is the reason you keep on surviving
why do you continue to breathe today
who showed you how to overcome
i've noticed since then
that i don't remember
the faces
no
i remember the eyes
the familiar eyes
that remind me of
the struggle to live
the fight to survive
the broken breaths
the defeats
and i'm reminded
that no one showed you how to overcome