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Monday, March 19, 2012

I told you so.

"If there’s so much I must be, can I still just be me the way I am?" – Kiara (The Lion King II)
So much truth in this, but apparently not.


I told you so.
I told you I am a mess.
I told you I am fucking insecure
I told you paranoia overcomes my soul.
I told you I have very low self-esteem.
I told you I've been hurt.
I told you not to give me empty promises.
I told you I am very emotional. My emotional quotient is basically lesser than an orange's.
I told you I can't grow up, not just yet.
I told you I'm very immature when it comes to the affairs of the heart.

I told you not to love me, and certainly not to reassure me that you do.
It made me have greater expectations, greater hopes.

For you, I changed. 
Bit by bit.
I wanted to become a better 'me', for you, and also for myself.
There's not much I've done, but I've did something.

But you made me fall.
When I fall, I fall hard.

You made me realize I am a mess. You made me immensely insecure & paranoid, you made my self-esteem go down so much faster than it was before. You hurt me. You gave me promises that were either broken or never fulfilled.

I concealed my emotions.

--

You told me you wouldn't leave, just like the others.
You told me that when everybody else leaves, you would still be there.
Guess what, you left first.
Or maybe I did. 


You told me you didn't mind loving me.
You told me you could see past my flaws.
Huge, huge flaws.

You told me you didn't mind my problems. 
My fucked-up self.
I believed.

You told me you wouldn't hurt me like how others did.
Again and again.
You told me you could handle all of the above.
No, you couldn't.

You just wanted me to handle it all by myself.
You want me to be "independent". I am sorry, I can't.

I was expecting you to hold on, and tell me "It's alright baby, I'm sorry."
"Let me hold on to your hand and tell you that everything's fine."

No, I have to find out about your inner thoughts from somebody else.
You would rather tell them, than me.
Once again, I've to find out about the truth, myself.

I was waiting for your reply.
Not so patiently.
You could be busy, you could be doing something else.
I had to ask.
Several times, in fact, with countless times of prompting.
Before I get a reply.
An immensely half-hearted reply.

Needing me to give you personal space?
Well, you got it now. A whole lot of them in fact.

You just told me "I'm giving you time to think about your problems."
You told me not to compare you to your past.
The 'better' you.
Comparisons are easily done once you've a taste of perfection.

You told others the issues that should just be between both of us.
I did too, but at least NOT to people that both of us know.

I am.
Beyond.
Disappointed.
In.
You.

I'm sorry.
I did behaved like a bitch.
A parasitic creature.
An insignificant fly on the wall.

Even the one last favour I asked of you seemed like it was robbing you of your soul.

I am sorry. I didn't know you despised those problems.
So fucking much.
I didn't know you despised me.
So much.

All those you said,
you made me wonder if they were all lies.

When I needed you most,
you left me.

There was good memories, no doubt.
In the past;

You gave me light when I was stuck in a dark and endless tunnel, directionless.
You gave me hope like how food and money is to a beggar.
You made me feel that living on this Earth is worth it.

Not anymore. 

My coping mechanism, once again, is to escape.
I am... numb.

My heart has hardened.
It no longer beats. Not for anything, not for anyone.

I am not eating.
Yesterday, I lost 2kg. Today, I lost another kg. 
It seems good.
I feel myself getting thinner.
It doesn't feel good, but it doesn't feel worse either.
At least you won't be there seeing me packing on the pounds, and telling me how I'll get fat from excessive fast food.

I'm not anorexic, but food repulses me, right now.
Maybe the appetite will come back to me soon, I hope.

I am not drinking.
My lips are chapped.
They are cracked.

My eyelids are heavy.
My tear ducts are incapable of producing anymore droplets of those salty-tasting liquids.
Maybe they're crying (ah, the irony) for me to stop.

Neither am I sleeping.
I'm... a zombie.

I laugh, to friends.
I smile, I tell them I am alright.
I tell my parents that the Subway sub they got me was yummy, and I loved the cookies.
But I threw all of those away while they were away and occupied with something else.
They can't notice.
I need to tell them I am alright.
I cannot be another burden to them, like how I was, to you.

I went into the kitchen.
The blades look tempting.
But no, I'm a pussy. 
I can't stand blood.

I went standing behind the windows grill.
It was dark, it was chilly.
If I was the one lying down on the grass patch below,
I wondered who would have noticed?

The one reason why I am still surviving right now is because of the reason in the first picture.
If my family and loved ones will not get hurt by my demise, I would do it.

And if I do it,
You're going to call me weak.
I am weak.

I'm sorry that my tyres are flat.
My engines are failing.
I am sorry I'm so scratched.
I'm sorry I am no longer your 'dream car'.

Spare me.
Once, and for all.

If you think you're the one only in pain, or if you're even in pain,
You're so fucking wrong.
It's a good riddance, for you, you know?
You do not have to bother about this fucking idiot over here anymore.
You don't have to force yourself to places you don't like just because I want to go.
You don't have to specially 'surprise' me to make me happy.
You don't have to tell me anything.
Anymore.

I don't have to try to hint you to give me surprises anymore.
I don't have to tell you anything.
Anymore.

Congratulations, you've made me reached 100%...
worth of not angst, not sadness, not upset...
But emptiness.

You know, this feeling that you get beyond despair?
That feeling.

I am not sure if I can still love again.

You were my first love.
Probably my last.
And never again.
I'll not love anymore.

I learnt not to believe in people.
I learnt not to trust people.
I learnt to be by myself.
I'll learn to be independent, as per your wishes.

I don't know what else you are going to tell others.
You can badmouth me.
You can bitch about me.
You can turn all my friends against me.
Afterall, I did you "injustice", it seems, by not putting myself in your shoes.

I don't care anymore.
For I'm not going to stay near anyone, anymore.
My grades proved that I need to leave DMC.
My character further insinuates that fact.
Maybe I should go, for real now.

I weren't your first love anyway.
So go love another girl.
But please, love her better, love her more than you loved me.

You tell me you can't, but you are one who is good with your words.
Who knows if those were words of superficiality?
You can certainly love again.

Goodbye, forever.

Goodbye GT, Goodbye KE, goodbye to the bunnies and dogs.
I'll miss them, even if I didn't have them.

--

What I want for is a guy, is for him to be caring, loving, protective.
You fulfilled the three.

What I don't want for in a guy, is for him to think I'm perpetually problematic, for him to break his promises, for him to think I am a wreck.
You fulfilled the above too.

What you want for in a girl, is for her to be caring, not self-centered, not constantly thinking about her own interests, somebody who would think about YOUR problems and put herself in your shoes, somebody who would give you personal space.
Sorry, I am not that girl.

I am not caring.
I am self-centered.
I constantly think of my own interests.
I can't think of your problems because I "don't think before I speak".
I am immensely clingy.
I can't put myself in your shoes.
You claimed you did, but you really didn't.

 I want somebody to be able to hold me back when I want to leave. I want him to give me a reason to stay.

Think I am heartless?
Bingo. I don't have a heart anymore.

--

It's time to start a new chapter in life.
All new.
New academics.
New friends.
New me.

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