Category: Prose

It’s like looking at the world
through a shattered pair of glasses –
of course everything will appear distorted.

Everyone I know has a preconceived image of me.

They see a girl who is always smiling, who is always laughing, who always has time to talk who is always unhappy.

They see this girl who is not me.

I am not the happy go lucky girl that everyone thinks I am.

Just because I am good at pretending, it doesn’t mean that I am like that all the time. And the worst part is that people think that there is nothing bothering me just because I keep that smile on my face.

I smile to keep everyone happy, and that in no way means that I am.

All people have to do is ask me how I am, but they don’t because they’d rather believe that I am happy than accept that I couldn’t be.

I don’t understand how people can expect any one person to be able to be happy or positive for a long time. Because I certainly cannot be.

So please stop projecting your expectations on to me. Please stop making me feel like I am not allowed to feel upset.

And please stop expecting me to be happy all the time.

Sometimes fathers are so underappreciated that it breaks my heart.

I love my father so much, I feel both grateful and proud to be his daughter.

Let’s play a game of Reverse Russian Roulette.

This is how it works. Instead of all the chambers of the revolver being empty with the exception of one, all the chambers will be filled – with the exception of one.

Each chamber will contain a vice of mine that I have used to cope. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Cutting. Purging.

So now that the gun is loaded, let’s spin the cylinder and see what happens.

There’s a one in five chance that I don’t do anything at all, but there’s a four in five chance that I will continue to cope the only ways I know how.

And that’s how the game works because I know that I will most likely continue destroying myself. With the gun in my hand and an exhalation, I anticipate the bullet that awaits me. It is very rare that one doesn’t come.

This is a test that I must pass.

So I don’t think. I just pull the trigger.

Everyone in your life is a hammer;
They’ll either break you or build you.

You’ve never been my cup of tea
because I’ve always preferred coffee.

I’ve never been your cup of tea
because I’ve always been a glass of scotch.

When I was younger, I used to be afraid.
I feared the dark.
I feared the monsters under my bed.
I feared the skeletons hiding in the closet.

But now, I fear nothing.
For there is darkness within me which I have learned to love.
For the monsters I see, they appear human wearing their facades.
For the skeletons who no longer hide, but sing to me in the night.

I am no longer afraid of what I can finally accept.

Nothing’s worse than when life needs to remind you that it is fragile.

I was happily just throwing my life around when my father was diagnosed. I realised I could do better, that I had to do better.

I was still not taking things seriously when my mother had a stroke. I was in denial for quite sometime… and then I broke. It was hard to get back into that working form but I tried.

Now life almost stole my father from me. And I knew that I have to really make a difference now.

It’s funny how perspective really matters.

In the solar system that I inhabit, I made you a planet.

In the universe that you created, I was nothing more than a dying star in the background.

It’s a little bit funny, the way humans work. They ask for something and when they get it, they don’t want it anymore. It’s like they say, “You got what you wanted but you lost what you had.”

People have been telling me to shut up my entire life, and when I did, they ask why I wouldn’t talk. Honestly, humans are such fickle creatures; they should learn to think before they ask, but then again, it’s not like as if I wasn’t asking for it right? It’s a queer thing when you ask for silence and once you get it, it drives you absolutely insane.