Is it really grave robbing if it's your corpse you're snatching there? Or do you cease it's ownership if it's you who killed it?

It's purely for research purposes, you see.

A few years ago, she died. I probably killed her, the details are a little fuzzy and not important anyway.

Now I sort of need her. She must be rolling in her grave right now. Well, we'll soon find that out once we dig that far. Although whether she's supine or prone hardly matters to me.

It is strange actually. Why I miss her all of a sudden. She was the one who would get me in trouble. Stubborn, fierce, vocal and brave. All wrong qualities for such a person. Once you accept you are less than, there is no need for them, really. They simply become hindrance, and such bravery is stupidity.

She and her qualities. Couldn't protect her heart well. You need to lay down and take it to survive long term. Such is the paradoxical nature of life. She believed in getting back up everytime she was knocked down. With a many on one encounter, she was going to be worn down eventually.

It was a mercy, really. When knocked down, make sure she doesn't get up. Never gets up. Rob her of the audacity, and she'll be limp.

Then dig a grave. Put her there, gently. There is no need of unnecessary cruelty, after all. Avoid looking in her helpless yet lively eyes as you lower her down. Fill in the grave with meaningless nonsense, forget it ever existed.

But are you sure? Can you forget?

When walking in the crumbling black and white world, among people with dead eyes, the same eyes staring back in the mirror, do I pretend I didn't glimpse some color,some life in corner of my eye?

Do I pretend I don't hear "fight back. You're human, you're worthy" a blink before sleep?

I need answers. It is for research, after all. So I'll call it archeology, rather than grave robbing.

Come back. I'm digging. Breathe now. Fight back. Hold on. Be brave. Show me what you saw. Get back up when knocked down.

I don't know if the words are mine or hers.

Does it even matter? I knocked her down, I got back up. Who cares about the semantics.

Oh, and the red is back. So is the blue. I'd forgotten how fresh green looked.

Shame. I used to recoil from ever uttering the word. I didn't want to read about it, let alone talk about it. I mean... What am I ashamed of? Me? Pft, nothing.

I would go to such extremes to seem not ashamed.

But in the end you have to confront the truth. And stop stalling. Which I should do, right about... Now. I'm still avoiding it lol and need to just get to the point already.

I am ashamed of myself. There. I said it. I'm ashamed of my identity. How I love the wrong kind of people, people who walk all over me, and smile and laugh and welcome them. "Come, join me in my self-flagellation! Let's rewrite my identity! Oh, you don't like this part of me? Let me remove it for you. There you go, all yours, packed and ready to go!"

I am ashamed of sanding myself, to appear smooth and non-embarassing. "Sadness? No, I am never sad. You don't have to worry about me. Anxiety? Nope, I am just hungry and dizzy and that makes me shake. No need to give my emotional burden to you, do I?"

I am ashamed of having those emotions. Fear, anxiety, so much fear. And for what? Being unlovable? Ending up alone? Honey, you already are! In your mind you are so alone. So unlovable. You don't even love yourself! Isn't it why you carve out those emotions on your body? To prove to yourself you are human, that you feel pain, you feel something.

I am ashamed of having those emotions. Fear, anxiety, so much fear. And for what? Being unlovable? Ending up alone? Honey, you already are! In your mind you are so alone. So unlovable. You don't even love yourself! Isn't it why you carve out those emotions on your body? To prove to yourself you are human, that you feel pain, you feel something.

You are human. Human's are social animals. Human's deserve love and friendship and support. Do you deserve love and friendship and support? Stop flinching and fucking look in the mirror. Do you see a lovable human being or do you see someone who has to be perfect and useful and good just to be tolerated, and maybe fed scraps of attention to?

I am ashamed of not speaking up. You know what I'm talking about. For enduring it, staying silent and even accepting it.

Now you are broken, no good, nonfeeling, shaking-tremoring at the slightest provokation, stupid mess. And I am ashamed of you. Look what you did to yourself once I handed over the reigns to you.

I'm ashamed of having those scars that I inflicted. But I don't get to be ashamed of something that I did to myself. So I'm ashamed of ever being discovered for it, having to justify and placate.

I am ashamed that I cry for even a speck of kindness shown, a little ray of humanity, a piece of love and a bite of attention given . Which obviously makes people recoil immediately, because who does that?

I'm ashamed of so much more. I am ashamed that I am ashamed. And that I don't say that I am ashamed when I feel ashamed.

In a room I sit,

Given a phone with power to connect,

But instead of talking,

I'd rather push myself to neglect.

A pen, a blank page to fill,

I want to make a statement so bold,

Yet the fear of it being too much,

Leaves the statement untold

A piece of clay, untouched on the sheet,

A chance to let myself out and mesmerise

But instead of sculpting,

I look around for critical eyes

Topics I care about,

A chance to share my voice,

But my quest to find all the judgmental eyes

Leave me silent without a choice.

In my personal hell,

The fear of failure holds me back,

And I'm left with nothing to tell,

Except for the courage that I lack.

In this space of my own design,

I'm both the prisoner and the guard,

Held captive by my own mind,

Forever trapped and forever barred.

these 14 years I created a bubble for me. A bubble of false security, comfort. And I made myself to believe that I was happy in that bubble.

But then, I understood that if I had to achieve something, I had to be out of the bubble and I was losing friends with my attitude.

I tried coming out of it, but it was hard. I was kinda stuck in between. I was out of the bubble, but caught infection by the new environment.

I started feeling uncool and unpopular. When I was in my bubble, my comfort zone, I didn't care if I was cool or popular or a nerd. But when I was stuck in between,trying to come out of the bubble, I realized that what I was trying, was getting noticed. I was self-conscious and tried pleasing people.

The life has gone bad. I feel like I did bad by not staying where I was.

Are these the obstacles in my path or this is the way life is outside, is this what people call the world?

I don't want to get stuck in between and it feels uncool now to go back in my comfort zone. 

Hey, how are you?

Me? Yeah, I'm fine...

"I am confused.

Everything is going bad.

No one believes me.

I wanna commit suicide.

My self esteem is low.

I feel like crying.

My dog left this world recently.

We lost the match.

My grades are terrible.

I don't know what to do with this life."

But yeah, I am fine.....