Sparks igniting, pressure mounting, every time we interacted. Everything I do, fail to do, say, fail to say, I will be chided. It’s like no matter what type of seeds I plant into the ground, I end up with papayas. Exhausted, I don’t know what to do anymore. Obstacles after obstacles, I feel my batteries fading. I attempt to stand up, only to be stabbed, wounded and pushed down on the ground again. There are only so many slashes a person can take before one bleeds to death – death by words and emotions. If only I sense nothing and feel nothing, I can go on forever and ever and ever. If only I am Wolverine. If only I never existed, your life would be extraordinarily better, I’m sure.
If only you stop seeing the side of me that you think is terrible, pathetic, beyond repair. If only you stop hearing the words that irritate you, the sentences that confuse you, the truths that irate you. Maybe, maybe then you will begin to see the beauty in me, that nobody has ever seen. And maybe, maybe by then, I’ll exude the beauty that nobody has ever seen or heard in me.