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I look at myself for how I reacted harshly before—
Realizing it took my energy a lot, for many times now;
So, I decided to choose the situations that I should be reacting at—
If it is not worth my time nor strength,
Then, there is nothing to be reacting about now.
Since, it is draining me.
And yet, when you react to the wrongs done to you,
They’re the ones who get angry.
At exactly three AM of VI/X/XXXV— it was a decision I made that changed my life. A rash decision based on what I wanted to feel at that time.

This was the hardest story I could ever tell the world—about what really happened to me. It was an awareness, that we have to be very careful who we chose to welcome in our life.

Everyone can be our friend—male or female, regardless of what gender. But some men, though I do not overgeneralize the fact, that my perpetrator is a male. A xxv-year old male, never attractive or my type—but he was a corrupting minor.

I was only XV at that time, maybe what made me drawn to him, was how he saw me regardless of how invisible I was in the eyes of others. I love the attention he gave me. The time he spend with me. But I was not his and he was not mine as well.

For some, it was an eye-opener but for some it was grief.
That nightmare I experienced, I hope it was only a dream that when you wake up it was no longer there;
But, that was not the case, at all.

He left me a scar that took me forever to heal, a trauma I cannot get rid of. I struggle to trust people's intentions. I judge people easily when someone wants to come into my life. I questioned God from before, I even questioned my identity.

Will someone love me or accept me? I felt so ***** at that time. Everytime I look at myself in the mirror, I look like I was too transparent for everyone to see when they look at me.

When someone talks behind my back, I became anxious.
My therapist diagnosed me of having Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PSTD) because even in my dreams, he visited me.

To the old me, back in XXXXXV—I am sorry that I caused you too much pain. You struggled on your own. You became home-schooled, faced the challenges on your own, sent away by your parents for a rehab, you learned how to become an independent person. You found your way through Poetry, you opened your old wounds for people to look at, not being judged.

To the young and naive you, thank you for being brave. For facing your problems on your own. Thank you for molding me into what I am today. I hope your inner child is healed already, because you were forced that at such a young age, your mother believed that "Maturity comes with age" but you realized that "Maturity depends on the kind of experience you had."

To the new me, you can smile and laugh now, for you have been freed—not by kindness, but by years of forgiveness and repentance. Let go of things that we cannot control or hold dear of. Life is always like that, very unpredictable and chaotic—but it is very pleasing to live a good life despite of its chaotic measures.

---_yndn.
I have been breaking bad right now,
Bend it over on me, for me.
Lean over, closer—
Your lips tasted like champagne.

Got a fever for this feeling I need to savor,
Salty whitish fluids keep wanting me more.
Dreams of getting intoxicated in the haze,
Feeling too anxious to pop pills, Getting lazy over ecstasy.

Mind flying in the daylight,
***** up my emotions.
***** and whisky over this ******-up life
Smoke ****, inhales pulverized ******* after s*x
Overdosed love, you say, but

If this poem is a free verse,
Can I have my life back without being under the influence?
I just wanna start over, start a new life.

Midnight hits different, when hitting you from behind.
Scream for me, will you?
No matter what pain it is,
It pleasures me within.

I just wanna overdose in pleasure and lust,
Not in some kind of drugs
Not in some kind of intoxicated smokes
I just wanna be drunk in love, not in alcoholic drinks.

When pain is traded for pleasure,
Just know that I will always be here for you.
I believe what we had is real, I know it
When pain already weighs pleasure now,
I beg you—don't stop, continue until you pass out
Am I really unfolding myself into the hands of my enemy—as if I was sealing my fate?

That is what you thought. Scratch it because it is wrong.

Said he, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the wokest of them all"

But I prefer to tell it by suspense. It is what is, honey.

You cannot escape death, truth or worse, me.

You may run anywhere in the world, I won't chase you; you may hide, change identity or much better, **** yourself— but your conscience and guilt will do its favor for me to hunt you down, and come crawling back to me, pleading for forgiveness, on your knees.

I might just want to **** you in one blow, nuh uh. I won't play that game that way.

Karma is doing its job right now, payback time for the pain you caused me.

I am hands free, washed my hands and raised it for everyone to see, for I am not everyone's accomplice.

Be not like Judas Iscariot, my dear;
Selling me to your mother, with your cooked and made-up stories
But I will be like Peter, that even I denied God, he still understood me.
Just like the moon, we are both comparable as imperfect—like its phases. Amidst that, you have loved me beyond my imperfections.
You call my name, I come to you in pieces,  
So you can make me whole.  

With your love, no doubts,  
I am renewed and accepted once again—  
Forgiven, even better.
I survived the battle,  
but this was no ordinary war.  
A battle of wits—  
with questions sharp as bullets,  
fired straight at me.

Yesterday was my breaking point,  
faced with choices I had to justify.  
Weighing each option, reasoning every path—  
I can only hope I chose the right one.

Crying was the last thing on my mind.  
I faced this battle with bullets of doubt ricocheting in my head,  
but I stood my ground,  
answering exactly as I intended.
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