she walked past me. I can't believed I still hoped to be found.

it's like. when you get lost in the mall as a kid. and you hope really hard for someone to recognize you and take you home. it's been hours and no one has found you. so you keep waiting. and hoping. then you get scared. because what if you never find them again and this is your life now. then you see them. and you expect them to be like "OH THERE YOU ARE IVE BEEN SO WORRIED" and you hug. or something. but you also expect them to scold you. "you should've reached out and found us. you just waited. you didn't even try to find us." so it's that split second of pure fear. then you hope they just don't see you. because if they were worried, you are the cause of it. and if they are angry. you are still the cause. and you'd rather them continue on doing whatever they were doing without you poisoning their peaceful atmosphere. so now you hope they just. don't find you. while hoping they do. because who doesn't want to be found. and then they really don't see you. and it's now the fear of being forgotten that plagues you. or the fear that you were just another Tuesday. when they were the closest thing to a maternal figure you had. the closest thing to what should've been a mother. should've been your mother. my mother. "mother".

then it hits you they already have their own family. and it's. beautiful. and healthy. it works. everyone has their problems but it's normal. it's what should've been normal. it's everything you are not and it's something you want. but it's not yours to take. never yours. you were just a kid that attended their tuition class every Tuesday. a class your father paid for. playing hooky wasn't an option. they were just a teacher. and a mother. but. not yours. never was yours. it's their family. you know you aren't included. and you understand you can't make waves in a calm pond when the pond doesn't belong to you. but you still hope they'd see you and let you in. even when they know you'd mess with the ambiance somehow. because you just miss that calm water. but they don't have to. no one has to. there's no obligation to help you. no one can save you.

so you are thankful they never realized they passed you. imagine telling someone you fell lower than the last time they saw you. and the last time they saw you they were praying for you really hard. for the good times to come. but the good times never came. times were always down. never really up. it was never in their power to change it but they really hoped so hard for you so how can you let down someone's hope. and they told you that everything would be fine once you got out of that house but everything is not fine and you just want to hug them and bawl so hard you can't breathe but you hate hugs you hate them so much and you hate crying even more and you hate them because why are you so attached to them then it comes out that you really hate yourself a whole lot and you don't want to spread that hate so how could you meet them again what if they can tell I got worse instead of better how am I supposed to explain that.

so once again you are thankful they no longer recognize you physically.

you wanted to be forgotten and forgotten you were so. so you were?in a sense. I guess the prayers did work. but isn't it rude for the prayers to work 7 years later. isn't that too mean. I. wanted to be forgotten by the general population that surrounded me. not by her. but she walked past anyways with her family. and it's not your family too and that's okay. you have no rights to leech into another person's family. that's okay. because if the manifestation for the one person that could attest to your existence forgets you. then. maybe. the manifestation to die young is coming too. we weren't even far apart. it was less than a meter. side by side. I was looking right at her she was looking right at me. did I really change so much. I mean yeah HAHA can't recognize myself in the mirror and all but. damn.

I should be happy it worked right?

but that means her prayers didn't work.

and she's the one that believes.

I think. I miss. my teacher.

do you think if I made a figurine. and hug it. would it suffice.

There was one thing my father always took pride in when it came to me.

"You've always been so emotionally mature."

I used to take pride in it too,

until I realized I was just a fool.

Pretending to be unaffected by words,

to be so strong as if tears weren't pooling at my feet.

I was 3. Then 4.

Kids don't really think at that age at all,

so why was I thinking my life would've been done by age 15, no more,

that age was my fate to fall.

so.

Somehow I've made it to 19.

Where did all that "emotional maturity" I had go.

I'm stuck returning to a site that suddenly has a paywall.

Maybe I really did die at 15.

I claw at a wall like a damned spider who'd 8 legs and lost 4.

Nothing is making sense.

I keep crashing and burning when I've done nothing?

I'm stuck in the same house,

same room,

same desk,

same gloom,

mentally I never moved past 15.

Why. Was I not supposed to be more mature than this?

How could I have been better off as a kid.

How could I.

That's not fair.

Give him back.

Where did he go.

I've been trained not to cry, not to make a sound.

That's what I'm doing right now.

That must mean I'm mature right?

Since I listen to whoever that calls?

I listen and I get things done.

Is that not maturity?

What was not being allowed to cry for.

Sure they never said it aloud...

unless screaming at me that strong, mature people don't cry counts...

but I think anyone would shut up if you screamed at them loud enough and held them down by the jaw so they'd struggle to make any sound let alone cry. I think anyone would've learned to keep quiet when tears only ever made the fighting louder.

Could you not have left me alone?

I was 4.

Wouldn't that have been easier on all of us?

15 is a kid too.

And a 4 year old thought they'd never live to that big age.

Does that not sound absurd to you.

It does to me.

What kind of kid thinks that?

Not me.

I've always been more mature.

Death is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

I see that quote alot.

Can't guess as to why.

Why would a 4 year old be more emotionally mature than a 46 year old.

Then you scolded me.

For my mouth was seemingly made of gold.

"Filled with money. That's why you can't open your mouth."

Wasn't keeping quiet a virtue to being mature?

Is that not what you keep saying I am?

Is that not what I'm supposed to be?

I was 4.

And now I'm stuck ranting in a place that didn't always have a paywall.

Didn't have a debit card when I was 12.

Isn't that why there were so many writing sites that were free?

Free to write all the things I can never say aloud?

Why am I even paying to write this.

There's drafts in this site that I can never leave.

Because internally, I think I never matured past the age of 4.

The games I used to play.

They changed too.

I used to be able to access all the portals in this one dragon game.

Now, I can't access any of them.

Because I never completed any of those new "quests" and therefore haven't unlocked it.

What about those 5 years I spent playing.

Were they worth nothing?

I know I left for sometime but I thought that was how I'd finally mature.

Leave it all.

That'll make me grow tall.

Leave it all.

Nothing stays the same so just fall.

There's something terribly wrong with me isn't there.

I guess having hobbies really wasn't that childish after all.

Or maybe I'm just childish.

And rather being unable to live past 15,

maybe I've always known I wouldn't be able to live past 4.

I can't find 13 reasons to live.

So exactly what is this all for.

I've found 13 confirmed reasons to die though.

The world truly keeps spinning.

I thought I was healing.

I really had the gall to believe I was healing.

No one really expects me to answer texts.

To respond to a call.

If I go offline for weeks they'd just put it down that I'm just like that.

I'm just built like this.

No one needs to worry.

I always come back.

But really I've been preparing them for the day I really won't respond at all.

Then they'd think it's just me being sulky.

As I always am.

I always respond eventually.

I always figure out how to move eventually.

Even though my feet feel like they grew roots without me.

It'll get better eventually.

The weather never stays the same.

Maybe I've just been weathering a bad storm for 19 years.

Surely I can hang on for 19 more.

But truthfully,

No one is ever getting that call.

I could be dead right now and it would still be Thursday morning,

and the days would pass.

I would have no one claim my body at the morgue.

No one would notice I'm gone.

Permanently.

I've been training them for this.

To not be phased when I finally decide to do something about this life I do not want to live.

Weeks would pass.

They'd continue their lives peacefully.

Meet new people.

That's my 13th Confirmed reason.

I'm proud of myself finally.

Successfully manipulated everyone into thinking I'm mature, and I'd come back eventually.

This is mature right.

Never give anyone a reason to worry.

Never hold anyone back.

Never make your problem anyone else's.

This mature.

I'd lose any fight to whoever I was when I was 4.

Everyone seems to know where they are going. Yet everyone seems to feel left behind. School, A career. I don't think it matters.

Highlights of their life posted in a sea of people who have done the same,

There's no original experiences, what a shame.

But sometimes your feet act with a mind of their own,

they see two directions and decide both are the way to go.

They split you down the middle, head to toe,

Torn apart now, where do you go.

They still take you somewhere,

where? you'd never know.

They'd stow you away, no destination in sight,

just a feeling that it's time to go.

Life is different for everyone.

We all know that don't we.

So when do we know it's time to depart when there's no place to go?

If there is no original experience how is everyone still so lost.

Your feet carry you with a dream your mind made up.

Are you schizo?

Was it your heart that told you so?

It's time to go. Time to go.

Are you departing and starting anew or are you running from your problems because you are afraid for the blood in your veins to pop and start to spew.

Is that blood or is it dust.

There was once I thought I knew,

turn left, then right, that's where I'm departing to and the time is now.

The future is now so how am I back where I started.

Turning left then right doesn't make a circle does it.

Unless I turned right when I should've left.

So I left again but nothing felt right.

I think I'm going in circles now.

Where was I supposed to depart to?

Highlights of their life posted in a sea of people who have done the same,

There's no original experiences, what a shame.

That's why you feel lost, you are comparing your normal day to day to someone's highest point.

The place they went isn't a certain for you to go to.

That's their life, that's their path, that's their time.

Now, it's time for you to go, too.

There might not be a certain place,

but what is considered certain at all.

Who is certain at all.

When is your departure time?

I think mine is coming soon.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: does it make sense if I say I clash w my mom so much because she is the youngest child and I am theoretically the oldest child.

but I don't get along w my dad because he's the oldest child and I'm theoretically the youngest

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: so we have a lady who can never be wrong for she was the youngest and everything wrong to be done had alr been done by he 12 siblings never her, she was the best child and everything she gives comes at a price for whatever she wants/ is expecting and her mom was tired raising kids and since most of her siblings were alr young adults and working she just was left and forgotten, so how else would she raise her own child if not in the same way

and we have a man who always made the first mistakes, already raised and funded 8 siblings higher education, and bought them houses. so the only thing ever expected of him was to be financially well enough to continue providing so how else would he raise his own kid if not in the same manner

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: which explains why one believes I should live my life directly in accordance with what she wants for me, since the cost of her labour was for me to live her dream, since everything was figured out for her I should do the same.

and one who believes I need to figure everything out myself because no one is coming to save you. and you have no siblings so once he dies there isn't any family relation left to anyone. and I'd be alone.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: yk they rlly are complete opposites.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: my mom never went to college or uni cuz no one payed for her to go. and fyi her dad was loaded enough to fund all her siblings education full way to uni. while having a bungalow in the heart of old town KL. so she just didn't go.

and my dad worked hard enough to send himself overseas and pay for all of his siblings to go to uni in Malaysia, and buying 3 of them houses in 1990s, including one for himself.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: what in the fuck are my circumstances

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: doesn't this mean my mother's family was well off. is that why nothing my father does is ever good enough for her financially.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: we are a T20 household on his income alone.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: is that not. enough.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: she would describe her childhood so poorly because "My mother had no money" and "we could never buy good food"

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: but 7/13 of them got sent to catholic boarding school. ts was expensive??

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: and all the food she said she ate as a kid. was in fact middle to high class food that my father had never tried until he sent himself for higher edu. he lived from sardines as godsend food. while she disliked sardines cuz she hated the sandwiches her mom made w them.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: sometimes I wish I was raised as a child.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: yk the entire reason I made another insta account was so I could like and comment on posts without the nagging voice condemning me for having an opinion and wanting to be heard. so I've been trying to learn how to express myself by commenting on and liking insta reels.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: I think I'm going crazy again. or this is the aftermath from when I went crazy.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: yk I have a severe opinion that people never change and it's because I can't accept the fact that I was never a good enough reason for my parents to change their ways. I could scream about how much I hate them and how I wish I was a dog because then they'd at least treat me better. and maybe they would've shown up. or try to. or how I have to keep myself busy if not I just lay it all out in a WA chat because I really never changed either. I still want my mom and dad to hear me even though I don't know who my mom and dad are. and I want to be told that they'd be there for me. and that I was good enough to hug. good enough to be their child. I could scream. but they would just walk away. then they'd eat their separate lunches and live their separate lives like I never said anything worth taking off their earphones for. and it's ironic how I do the same to people the moment they express any feeling to me. I think I'd really like to be asked about my day without it being a passing question. I think I'd like it if they waited for my answer. it would be nice if they stayed to hear it. and that is why I hate talking to people. because it's stuck in my heart that a bunch of strangers are capable of this, when the first people who should've done this with me was supposed to be them and it's like they never tried to do it.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: I think I really like the idea of parents but I can't really imagine what it would be like to have them physically. I can't even dream of having parents. what the fuck does that mean

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: I think I'd like to relate to those quotes that go "You can't kill yourself, imagine how sad you mom/dad/friend would be if they got that call." but I know no one would be called. my emergency contact number is my old phone number. I'd like to say "trying my hardest not to kill myself because I don't want them getting that call" but there is no them. I imagine my death so much it's more like a memory while all my actual memories are cloudy or don't exist at all.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: Like I think it would've been nice to have told someone when I died. but I know for a fact I am shit when it comes to expression.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: The only thing I remember from my childhood was the rage and jealousy I had whenever I saw another kid being capable of running to their parents for a hug and their parents actually hugging them. and it was Srikl where no one really had parents that showed up. if those parents never really showed up then what were mine. I didn't even know what I felt was jealousy. I just thought I was utterly incapable of being deserving enough for someone's care. I think it would've been nice if I hurt myself and someone was actually there to bandage it up. even if it didn't hurt.

[16/07, 04:23] ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ: do you know how confused I was that people were worried about my finger when I burnt it. I burnt my fingers way worse before. the entire 3 fingers. and I had to deal w it and bandage it myself. and I still can't understand why people cared for such a small burn on my finger. or that xy would send me to my room because I was tired. I've been born with a "sleep is for the dead" mindset. so that didn't make sense either.

If there's one thing I can say that I am without the abrasion of doubt at the back of my throat,

it's that I am consistent.

Consistently pessimistic.

About everything.

I reread these posts from time to time.

My thinking never strayed from their lines.

Am I not supposed to be better off now.

I still ask myself when the good times will come.

Do you think I will have the answer 5 years from now?

LX said they'd remember me. But they know I hate being perceived so they'd remember me ½ of the time.

I skipped responding to that text. It's not that I hate being perceived. This is how I wanted to respond.

you don't always have a contradicting thought in your mind that you want to interact with people and be remembered but you also want everyone to forget you exist so you can leave in silence and peace?

because anyone can say they will remember you but when time does it's thing it'll be natural to forget someone who hasn't been in your life for awhile. like you slowly forget your preschool teachers name, their voice, their face. but they are still alive and living their life. it's just that forgetting is a natural part of the brain. so in a sense if you hold out long enough and set the precedent that you sometimes go no contact for no reason at all, the day you go no contact for a reason will be missed. and slowly people will forget about you. and you can leave and no one would stop you but everyone wants someone to stop them right. and tell them they cared. they will be missed. they'd notice you gone because they count the stars at night and would see you tried to put out ur light. but what if you are not a star at all. there are so many. you can't expect even the most enthusiastic astrologists to remember them all. what if you aren't anything. worth less than a dead rat trapped in a cage and left to die in the sun. what's the use of remembering something like that. someone like that. what if I am that someone. No one is obligated to remember me. I know that. I know I am not worth the dust that comes off your shoes. or anyone's. I just.

I know that when I die, no one would get the call. I'd be a body left in the morgue unclaimed before finally being disposed of in a nameless Tupperware. I know that. I just. Sometimes I feel like it's a crime to remember who I once was.

22nd July 2025

I've been off to Uni for a year now.

My body got sick.

Really, really sick.

I was dying.

The moment I was out of my parents' house,

when my body started getting attuned to feeling safe,

no longer being scared,

filled with anger.

I collapsed.

It's summer break now,

I've been reintroduced to my mother's "holier-than-thou".

To my parents' constant fights,

my nights are relentlessly filled with frights.

My dreams consist of it too,

nothing has been able to stop this mindscrew.

There's always been this feeling in the pit of my stomach,

home was always a house,

but it was never a house that welcomed me.

It's almost indescribable,

either that or in everything I truly am incapable.

The stove broke the other day.

It's made of glass and it shattered because there was hot coal on it.

It could've cut me. Burned me.

It really should've.

With how religious my mother is,

it seems everything gets granted when you pray and repent hard enough.

I've been showing penitence for having the audacity to be born,

every day I continue to mourn for the life my parents never lived.

So why.

Why didn't that glass pierce me.

Why didn't it at least stab me in the foot.

Why didn't I get burned.

please.

I am thinking of myself worse than an unwanted mutt.

It seems to be the best description of me.

I always tell myself I can be hurt for them.

I should be hurt for them.

They should hurt me.

Take out their anger on me.

Because like a dog I love them.

And like a dog I still follow them around.

My tail may no longer be wagging, hell it might even have been docked,

but i still love them.

It might be getting harder not to snap and nip them.

But I am a dog.

And as their dog I am okay with being betrayed.

I have nightmares of them fighting.

Of me finally getting disowned.

The day I get discarded like the unwanted mutt I am.

When I can finally beg them,

and put a knife in their hands.

They wouldn't need to pay for a funeral then, right?

Because I can't kill myself.

Not in reality nor dreamscape.

I can only beg someone to rest a knife on my neck a little too hard.

That's the only thing I can do.

Beg.

But my father told me just now about his dreams.

He said I was always his baby girl in them.

Always.

How his dreams consist of me.

His dreams are me.

All those little snippets of time where he wasn't working,

he spent with me.

He dreams of actually having time to raise me.

To live with me.

me.

ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ᶦ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᶦᵐ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵈᶦᵉˀ

ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᶦˢ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵍᵒⁿᵉ.

ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃ ʰᵘˢᵏ ʳᵉᵐᵃᶦⁿˢ ᶦⁿ ʰᵉʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ.

ʰᵒʷ ˢʰᵉ ᶦˢ ˢᵒ ˡᵒˢᵗ.

ˢʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʰᶦᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ᵈᵒ ʷᶦᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʰᶦᵐ.

ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʷᶦˢʰᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵗ.

ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᶦᶠ ᴵ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵉ.

ᴹᵃʸᵇᵉ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ᵇᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ.

ᴵ ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰᵉʳ.

ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᵍˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ.

ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐˢ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵖᵃᶦⁿᶠᵘˡ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ.

ˢᵒ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ᵖᵉᵃᶜᵉᶠᵘˡ ˡᶦᶠᵉ.

ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ᶦ ᵗᵉˡˡ ʰᶦᵐ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ.

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ.

ʷʰʸ ʰᶦᵐ.

ʷʰʸ ᵐᵉ.

ʷʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ˢᵘᶜʰ ˢʷᵉᵉᵗ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍˢ.

ʷʰʸ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᴵ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ˢᵃᵈ.

ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ.

ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʷʳᶦⁿᵏˡᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ.

ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵍʳᵒʷⁿ ᵗᵃˡˡᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰᶦᵐ.

ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍʳᵒʷⁿ ˢʰᵒʳᵗᵉʳ.

ʰᵉ'ˢ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈᶦⁿᵍ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ᵍʳᵃⁿᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ.

ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ.

ʰᵉ ᶦˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵒˡᵈ.

ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ.

ˢᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʷʰᶦᵗᵉ ʰᵃᶦʳ.

ˢᵘʳᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˡᵏˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵃ ᵇᶦᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ˡᶦᵐᵖ.

ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶦˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵒˡᵈ.

ʰᵉ ᶦˢ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʰᶦᵐ.

ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᶦᶠ ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵖʳᵃʸ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵐʸ ˡᶦᶠᵉˢᵖᵃⁿ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ ᵗᵒ ʰᶦᵐ.

ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ ⁿᶦᶜᵉʳ ˢᵒᵘˡ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵐᵉ.

ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍᵒᵗ ʰᶦˢ ᶦˢˢᵘᵉˢ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶦˢ ᵏᶦⁿᵈ.

ˢᵒ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ.

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ

ᶦ ʷᶦˡˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰᶦᵐ ᵗᶦˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᶦ ᵈᶦᵉ .

ᵇᵘᵗ ᶦ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵈᶦᵉ.

ᶦ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵖʳᵉᵗᵉⁿᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˡᶦᶠᵉ.

ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒʳ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵐᵉ.

ʰᵉˡˡ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉ.

ʰᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ ᵇᵘᵗ ˢʰᵉ ᶦˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵐᵉ.

ᶦ ᵈᵒⁿᵗ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ʰᶦᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᶦ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵇʸ ᵍᶦʳˡ.

ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢ ʳᶦᵍʰᵗˀ

ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᶦˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢ.

ᴵ'ᵐ ᵍᵒᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᶦⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳᶦᵉˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ.

ᴵ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃʳʳʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘᶦˡᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᶦ ᵈᵒ.

ˢᵒ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ.

ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᵐᵉ.

ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ.

please.

[08/05, 02:57] •-•: I keep going against my own promises to myself

[08/05, 02:58] Xy: then maybe

[08/05, 02:58] Xy: those promises were never meant to be

[08/05, 02:58] •-•: or maybe I just can't keep promises

[08/05, 02:59] Xy: maybe

[08/05, 03:01] •-•: promised to never smoke

promised to never drink

promised to always be there for my parents

promised to love them

promised to take care of them

promised to keep in touch with friends

promised to never hurt myself

promised to never give up

promised to never give in

promised to keep being me

promised to care

promised to speak

so many promises that I never keep

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: hmm how would you define ur love for them

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: like a scar that never heals

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: it keeps trying to heal but something keeps peeling that thin layer of film keeping shit together

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: I keep bandaging it

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: I don't move the limb

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: I do everything I physically can so the film doesn't breaks but it breaks anyways

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: and as it bleeds I just wish for someone to beat me up

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: so that it isn't the only wound bleeding

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: and maybe if there were more wounds it wouldn't feel so alone and keep breaking

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: or maybe I've really just been faking a wound that was never there

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: and maybe if the wound weren't there. maybe they actually know me. maybe I am still me. maybe I still want my mom and dad and maybe I don't want them to die

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: maybe I want to be 30 and still have someone to call dad and disturb. maybe I still want to watch my mom make food. she's always technical and focused. patient. I wanted to learn maybe there is still a chance to. maybe I still want to call my dad and take photos of him to turn into a frog. maybe I still want to do the same to my mom. maybe I want to sit down with them and have a drawing contest with them again. maybe I want to burn my fingers on a skillet and have someone tell me it's okay and things will heal.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: the small child in you still hoping?

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: I am the child.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: who would be their daughter if it wasn't me.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: maybe in another world I can tell them I am happy.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: what if I actually love hugs but hate the fact it is never them who give it to me. So I tell people I hate hugs. because if I get no hugs then maybe they aren't that different from people.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: maybe I hate people checking up on me because it was never them and if no one checks up on me then it's not just them.

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: maybe I hate alot of things because they never did it

[08/05, 02:41] •-•: maybe I just miss my mom and dad.

I hurt so much yet not at all.

It's draining me alive,

yet, I'm not really alive am I?

I haven't been for a long while.

My body continues to pump blood,

it floods my veins, to my heart,

over and over again.

No matter how much I wish it to stop.

Please just stop.

To have a brain that insists on silence,

to be left alone,

to let the thoughts in my head run me down to bone.

And a heart that craves a hug,And a heart that craves a hug,And a heart that craves a hug,And a heart that craves a hug,

it doesn't need to be warm,

my heart just wants to be filled like a mug,

with warmth that isn't its own.

But thanks to my head,

nothing can fill my cup

So my heart remains a stone,

it keeps waiting for the day my brain lets up and leaves me alone.

But I don't want my heart.

It's too fragile.

Far too fragile.

It's why my head took control.

If neither my head or heart wants to live.

Then what am I still doing here.

I need to bury myself alive.

Maybe that would stop the noise.

The hurt.

I'm so exhausted.

Even death isn't a threat.

I wish it comes painfully and slowly.

Maybe then it would make the hurt I'm feeling right now make sense.