Sunday, March 12, 2017

strangled

It is rather confusing. To be wanted. To want in return; but also having to walk away and to restrain yourself from turning back. The past had taught me enough to which extent shall I bear being around someone.

And yet... I miss his presence.

I closed my eyes to recall the good moments we shared. I tried hard... but suddenly tears trickled down my already sunken cheeks. I can only recall us arguing. And the sound of my breath as I hyperventilate from disappointment and sadness.

For every ounce of effort wasted on me. I apologise.

For every penny spent on me. I apologise.

For every milisecond sacrificed for me. I apologise.

For immeasurable false hope I had given you and your family. I apologise.

For having such an elaborate dark past. I apologise.

For my mental instability. I apologise.

My remaining strength is all invested on my job. It is in this that I find solace, despite its chaos and complexity. It is in this that I feel that I am worthy of something good. That I have value.

And with you, I feel like I worth less than a trash. When brushing me off over something uncertain becomes easy... that's when I know that I have lost the glitter I used to possess which caught your eyes seven months ago.

I had gone through so much for a person of my age.

I am just a human. How many times can I mend my heart just to have it shattered into pieces over and over again before it turns into pulp which is beyond repair?

The little weight I had gained during my stay in Egypt is lost just like that. The spine on my back is obvious. My ribs are showing. My hip bones are jutting out. My chin looks as if someone did a bad genioplasty with it from being too prominent.

I wake up everyday feeling nauseous and experiencing chest tightness. I am starving. I want to eat. I want to eat so bad, I cry everyday because my tummy seems to reject food everytime I try to fill it a bit. Even if just a little bit.

Sad memories keep replaying in my mind that I am forced to sleep to let my brain relax a bit.

Every pace is a strive. It feels like trying to walk through a swamp with thick mud pulling my legs from striding forward.

This feels terrifyingly familiar. The thought of experiencing the same thing I did seven years ago is so terrifying...

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