happy birthday to me
Saturday, November 14, 2009
23. i hate all numbers exceeding 21, seriously.
damn all your birthday promises and wishes.
i don't know how i didn't manage to throw myself on the highway to meet a quick death. or choke to death from an overdose of medicine.
you give me so much pain, and i will never be able to forgive you.
beneath all the smiles, so still lie the terror and wretchedness you so sparingly provided to me.
i really want to stop crying for your callousness, but i can't.
because there's still the love and anamnesis in my splintered heart.
i can't breathe. breathing needs a tremendous amount of effort, now.
when i relate our pleasant memories to my friends and mouth your name, the effort to brace up to the new reality has to come with another effort to block the tears from entering my sockets.
now i understand fully how she must have felt at the time, even though the tables are turned. messages never exceeding six words at one time.
it is like someone dying. someone leaving your life. someone said to pretend to hate and let go, but it is an impossible task. i never hated anything about you; i just got exhausted from all the negative emotions.
wishes that fell, i have no heart to pick them up and rebuild pieces of my pathetic life all over again.
bruises on my limbs, their colours never change because feelings are choking up the red streams.
eyes that are permanently swollen, i sob day and night.
when i relate our pleasant memories to my friends and mouth your name, the effort to brace up to the new reality has to come with another effort to block the tears from entering my sockets.
now i understand fully how she must have felt at the time, even though the tables are turned. messages never exceeding six words at one time.
it is like someone dying. someone leaving your life. someone said to pretend to hate and let go, but it is an impossible task. i never hated anything about you; i just got exhausted from all the negative emotions.
wishes that fell, i have no heart to pick them up and rebuild pieces of my pathetic life all over again.
bruises on my limbs, their colours never change because feelings are choking up the red streams.
eyes that are permanently swollen, i sob day and night.
seeking exit out of pain
i was brave enough to say this was the end, but i fought hard before it rained hard on me, that it was really the end, our end.
over dinner, i wanted so much to grab your shoulders, and remind you of my love, and beg that you won't hurt me like that anymore. such a scene was so disturbingly familiar; i was too aware that i wouldn't derive a different outcome, hence i shouldn't set myself up for another grieving session alone under my pillow.
i wanted this to be a peaceful parting, not a bitter exhibition of emotions when i walk out of your life for the betterment of your life.
how long ago have you stepped one foot outside my window, just to make sure that i was still alive and breathing?