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 πŸ™‚ 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 πŸ™‚ 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 :’)

control the need for control

grinding my teeth every night,

and as hard as i might,

i just can’t get through the sleepless nights.

schedules,

back to back,

anxiety,

my vision is black.

the fear of the unknown i take to my bed,

the fear of the known i keep in my head.

when will it stop?

when will i stop?

when will i stop and breathe happiness?

when will i stop and be happy?

 

i hate it!

I hate it! I really hate it when someone tells me it’s too late.

It’s too late to catch up, because only people who have consistency from the start succeed. It’s too late to learn a skill and be recognized for it because most people start from young. It’s too late to change your mind about your dreams because they require years of portfolio. It’s too late to be a mother because usually women give birth by 37. it’s too late to start a business in that field because it’s too popular now so your’s won’t succeed. It’s too late to go back to school because your brain must be rusty.

Saying “it’s too late” is like saying “you’ll fail for sure”. Now who are you, to say that?

Surely only God can tell. Yes, life is hard, life is unfair. But life is not always hard and unfair. Just like how you have to have been happy to be sad, you had good days to tell apart from the bad ones. I believe there is fate, but God is good and if we try hard enough, no matter the countless failures, you will make it in the end.

So don’t tell anyone it’s too late. They can do anything if they really want it, with no excuses.

Be a lad, and encourage the people around you to be better and happier. Don’t pull anyone down because that’s not what humanity is about.