N Oct 5
i just want it all to be over-
the yelling, the crying, the endless disappointment
i just want you to love me
to make me not feel broken anymore

i need you to hear me
hear my pain and longing to reach out to you
i need you to understand me
understand my feelings and my desires

i yearn for your attention
i yearn for your praise
i yearn for your affection

i want to move on
to be free of this life

free me from these chains
let me move on and make my own life.
N Oct 5
is your family still together, just like way back when?
do you stick by each other through thick and thin?
or do you hardly know the one that you call father?
and do you ponder why you seldom talk to mother?

it wasn't always this way, i can recall there was a time...
we were all together and we were doing fine.
we all have our problems, please don't get me wrong...
but i can remember a time when life was still a song.

so much has happened to tear us into pieces...
broken hearts never mended and hatred still increases...
once i became old enough, reality banged on my door,
i realized that this was not a family anymore...

it is small and broken, some here and there...
left to wonder who really cares.
it brings a storm of resentment from what has become...
the events of this torn home left me feeling numb.

i once missed the ways i learned to live without...
no stronger than the flame which we blew out.
your family is there, whether you want it or not...
it just depends on who you've got.

blood doesn't make us more loyal than a friend...
nor does it establish who's there in the end.
let them go if they never pulled through.
sometimes you find, you'll always have to.

i never took it straight to the heart...
just thought of it as two worlds apart.
N Sep 17
despite what others prefer to believe, all women can be mothers.
but not all mothers can be maternal, i've learned this from living with you all these years.

I guess that's the same as saying you weren't hardwired to love me. but i was certainly born to love and need you. i didn't realize this when i was younger, although i wish i did. i wish i understood.

you, in all that you are and all you are not, gave me life. yet i have no happy memories with you. i can't recall a single moment in all these years that we have conversed about anything other than surface level topics.

sure, you keep me well-fed, bathed, clothed, educated, and all things materialistic. other than that, what else was there?

you are emotionally distant, perpetually detached. you never understood how much i needed to be held, comforted and heard. you left me hungry and desperate for love, approval and validation. all of this, i sought from others.

good thing dad is around to make up for what you cant give. i can never thank him enough. but his love can only go so far. i need you too.

look at me, mom, i need a little fixing.
a few others have tried, but have failed miserably. they all gave up eventually.

who would even dare waste their youth on someone as hopelessly broken as i am, right? at least that what you taught me to believe. you belittle me every chance you get.

i keep trying to figure you out. watching movies and reading articles about mothers and daughters who share a strong bond always fill me to the brim with the painful awareness of a deep loss, and the horror that i am alone in this agony.
this was my own personal brand of ****.

what was going through your head when you first held me? were you disappointed that your plans were put on hold because you gave birth to such a needy, greedy baby?

"greedy. that's practically your middle name" you said. remember?
am i the cause of all your frustrations? do you look at me and see all the things you couldn't have, all the things wrong in your world?

recently, i remember you said you wanted us to have a more open relationship, something you never had with your mother.
although now that i've thought about it, it makes no sense.
its almost impossible to justify the idea of you wanting to befriend me, with you being unspeakably critical of me one day, impossibly uncaring the next day and then, completely out of the blue, disconcertingly affectionate toward me.

i am now suddenly aware that the overbearingly fussy mom act, frequently happened in front of an audience.
behind closed doors, you never asked me what i was thinking or how i was feeling. i grew up believing my opinions and emotions were largely irrelevant to you.

there was, and is, no winning with you. i was never smart enough for you, mom. apparently, a 89 is not good enough.

I was never pretty enough for you, either. whenever we went out you told me to put on some makeup. only complimenting my looks when i have a full face of makeup on. the worst part is, for the longest time, i believed you.
i still believe you, sometimes.

mom, for years, you've convinced me i am unworthy of unconditional love and affection, for being unapologetically me.

me relationships, both romantic and platonic, have been a constant roller coaster ride. one moment, my head is spinning from the high of all their love and support, the next minute, i am spiraling into depression, because i feel like i cant trust them to stick around.
because who would want to stay with a person who is beyond reparation, right?

it always seems like euphoria is less welcome than misery when i'm around you. i flee from romantic relationships when i notice myself becoming attached. i don't even know why, considering the amount of fondness i have for them.

maybe it's self sabotage? perhaps. what i do know for sure is i don't deserve such a kind, loving soul.
or do i?

do you even realize how crippling it is to constantly wait for the other shoe to drop? i have friends who have been there for me all these years and i, for the life of me, don't trust them enough not to judge me whenever i open up about my problems and this sadness you've inflicted on me.
that is why i suffer in silence.

i feel an obsidian emptiness in my heart and my soul. and you are the one who caused it.
i despise what you've done to me, but even i know i can't hate you forever. i can't keep living my life like this, mom.
but who do i turn to?

i reckon this terrible affliction is mine, and mine alone. i have to stop blaming you now.

i have to emancipate myself from all the guilt that well meaning people direct toward me, for having such strong, contradictory feelings for you. they are oblivious to what it's like to squirm under your disapproving gaze, after all.

i must be free of you somehow.
only then i can begin to heal.
only then can i be free.
N Sep 16
waiting for death...

the empty bottle of pills layed next to my pillow,
so much pressure in my head it feels like it's going to explode.
my chest with a pain so indescribable,
the faint taste of blood in my mouth,
the confusion and sleepiness taking over.

first few minutes...

laying in the back of my fathers car,
my head in my sisters lap with my face wet from her tears,
drifting in and out of consciousness,
rushing to the ER,
everybody terrified yet i was at peace,

i felt like i could finally be free,
from all the pain and heartaches.
I felt relaxed, undisturbed, ready for death.

first few hours...

laying in the hospital bed,

i stare at the ceiling with a blank expression,
ignoring all doctors, nurses, therapists, and social workers
that try to talk to me or ask questions.
It took seven hours for somebody to get a word out of me.

they inspected my body for cuts,
fresh ones on my hip and scars on my wrists.
this was never addressed or even commented on by my parents.

my sister held my hand for 12 straight hours,
slept upright in a chair,
to comfort me.

first day back...
i had not been at school for a week and a half,
rumors had gone around,
friends who knew how unstable i was had been talking,
people would approach me and ask what happened,
i got weird looks and stares,
i got called weak and selfish.

first week...
i sat in my chair in the classroom in a shocked silence,
i didn't speak a word at school for a whole week.
a blank stare on my face all day,
constantly wishing that i was never brought into that hospital,
wishing they didn't save me.

first month...
i slept anytime that i wasn't at school
my sister the only person giving me the support and love that i needed,
the only person to text me throughout the day,
the only person to sleep in my room so i didn't have to be alone at night,
the only person to get me to speak about how i was feeling,
the only person to check my body for cuts,
the only person to remind me every single day how much she loved me.

second month...
i hold back my tears in english.
as we watch a movie about a girl that commited suicide.

third month...
i let small things get to me while locked in my room,
feeling so numb that i slit my skin so i can feel something
so i can see if i'm still alive or not.

fourth month...
i want to give up again

fifth month...
i get prescribed medications for depression

people don't understand what it's like
to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken,

slowly becoming immune to my emotions,
with my lungs incapable of letting air out,
with the pain buried within unable to turn into tears.

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open.


i am still healing, on my way to recovery
i am reminded of all the pain i've endured through the years
it used to be etched into my body
i regret it yet also embrace it
because i am a survivor.
N Sep 16
It took me six years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
i thought it was easier
t o open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

it took me six years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts of your home
or hold pieces of your heart
that you don't yet understant

it took me six years
to realise
i will wear these scars forever
i'll carry them through
every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
ill carry them
to my grave

it took me six years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls of my castle
etchings of
attempting to die
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of how i surviveds
N Sep 16
to those who say suicide is selfish,
cutting is pointless,
understand you can never comprehend what they dealt with.

you may say you have it worse than they did
on deeper levels that **** was well hid,
somethings easy for you may be hardest for others.
it's not easy to leave mothers, fathers, friends, and siblings

your strength my weakness, your weakness my strength
those who suffer go through many trials of a dark never ending length.
some wear their scars on their sleeves,
others hide it tucked well deep beneath
help sometimes is not what they really need.

I can assure you this wasn't a selfish and greedy deed
they loved you so much, more than you will ever know
sometimes in an ironic way, the better is finally letting go

whether you believe in afterlife or rather nothing at all
remember the best of times, and for them stand proud and tall
their being may no longer reside on our earthly plane
but forever in our hearts and mind they shall always remain

we will never fully understand and comprehend
religious, or not, I know we will reunite in the end.
N Sep 16
when I was five,
my mother told me I was loved.
years later, she abuses me and tells me to **** myself
because I am her punching bag.

when I was eight,
my aunt told me she would always be there.
years later, she hung herself in her living room
breaking her promise.

when I was eleven,
I was told to be social, that everybody is a friend.
years later, I was *****.

When I was sixteen,
this guy said I was beautiful.
weeks later, he trashed me, tormented me
because I was ignorant enough to overlook my inevitable flaws.

So, sorry for not believing in you,
for questioning your intentions, inclusively, in-depth
when you told me you loved me because
I didn't want to wind up later on,
learning it the hard way, once again,
that people often don't mean what they say.
Next page