first week at school

recess was bad…

toilet and library I went and back,

while my anxiety consumed me.

the uniform didn’t help either;

3 inches below the knee,

tucked in when it shouldn’t be,

made my heart feel heavier with all that fabric.

//

toilets were the worst…

the mirrors tell you everything- the truths.

but oddly enough,

as I faced the mirror,

it didn’t say anything to me.

it didn’t dare to say anything…

but I saw it;

the reason why the thought of meeting new people and making friends consumed me,

the reason why abandonment issues locked my heart,

the reason why trust issues paint my skin.

//

so back and forth I went,

toilet and library I went and back.

alone was my comfort,

alone was safe,

alone was my fort,

that made reality fade.

\\

The above is true 🙂 I did experience that in high school. Let’s just say I had a really traumatic childhood and I probably haven’t full recovered from it but I’m constantly trying. I still remembered my first week in high school really vividly. I didn’t have friends for quite some time because I didn’t dare to speak in class, nor did I dare even reply other people. During recess, I would run off to wait for time to fly in the toilet, or I’d wait and hide in the library reading books. The canteen was scary because it made me feel more alone than being in a classroom full of people who had their own friends. Cliques formed so quickly, it triggered anxiety whenever I had to form groups for assignments and I had to be those “leftovers” who needed to be adopted into some random groups. After that I really tried, to change and I did. I’m still figuring out my life and work out my insecurities 🙂 I’m hopeful.

If you went through something traumatic too, or still struggling to recover from your past experiences or even yourself, I’d love to hear from you and share some love too :’)

rage rage rage

coursing through my veins,

fire spreading like wildfire.

lava oozing out of existing wounds,

heat waves blurring my vision;

cooling winds blow but i ignore it and allow it to make me wilder, faster, stronger.

my rage engulfs everything i built,

everything i love.

despite all of the madness,

i hope the trees i burn, light a new path for me.

do you?

oh all the time…

I avoid the places we know,

all the time,

because they scream your name,

and ask if I remember you.

I can’t lie to myself,

so I avoid them,

so that maybe,

just maybe,

I can get over you.

But,

actively avoiding those places,

makes the memory of you roar louder in my heart.

But hey,

tell me…

do you go through this too?

stop hugging me

Hugs are basic forms of affection, or so most people say.

People give them out for free and often. People hug to say hi, to apologise, to love, to finish their sentences.

Stop it.

Hugs are powerful.

Stop giving them so carelessly.

A hug can cure loneliness, it can confess love, it can comfort beyond words can ever. A hug can mend ties, bid farewell and give you life. A hug can make you a new friend, a new lover or soulmate.

A hug, can shatter the walls I take forever to build…

So stop giving it to me if you don’t mean it.

Don’t leave me lonelier than before you came.

I beg you.

not today satan!! i decide who to love

Every night, I struggle in my sleep to decipher why you appear in my dreams.

Surely, you didn’t appear in my dreams with a purpose… right?

Oh god, I hope not.

It must be pure coincidence.

We are better friends. I like it this way.

For every dream I dream, feels like sin. It feels wrong because my mind and heart belongs to someone but my heart and soul yearns for you.

But I am careful.

For being with you in real life is too good to be true.

So I wrap up my wishes and feelings and store them at the back of my consciousness and pray that in the next life, maybe… just maybe… you might be mine.