Double-edged Sword

It’s funny… or sad, I don’t know how best to describe it. The bandages have come undone but everyone refuses to believe it. The damage has been done, and while everyone is enduring, the knife pierces deeper inside of us.

Every word I utter is wrong. I felt defenseless and powerless by every piercing. After crying for a long time, I couldn’t believe it but it felt funny. I might be insane. All my words thrown back at me and asking me to enumerate when did that happen. But I’m really tired, and they are not listening. I’m close to exploding and being told not to cry like this. How can I not? If I did not let the tears fall, my whole self would disintegrate.

I don’t know everything but there’s sure a lot of things that they don’t know. They don’t know the details, they just heard some stories.

They said they want to keep the family together, I see that too. But it’s not working the way their holding an already shattered snow globe together. If they didn’t want to talk it out, nothing will be resolved. What’s left would be pretending that everything is perfect and nothing is wrong. Why not face the problem together?

What hurts the most is that you spent all your life understanding, fitting in, blending in, adjusting and they shoot right back at you telling you what it’s like to adjust. I know why people tell me their problems, I have accepted that fact that they tell me things they don’t normally tell others. I appreciate it. But it just get too heavy sometimes, even then I go on. I don’t complain and am glad to be able to help people by just listening. But it really hurts that they had to point it out to me why I am being told just that. I’m used to no one standing up for me, or saving me in situations, but I’m glad my sister is there for me. As always, our brother just stood there and did nothing, his voice small as ever. I’m glad I’m able to talk with some of my cousins and my professor, for the advice they gave me, if not I don’t know what would have happened to me. I was once clinging so hard not to plunge into depression. Thanks to these people I was able to find my smile again. Thanks for their encouragements and not instilling false hopes, I was able to emerge in one piece.

I wonder how else could I have asked permissions to where I would go when at this age I haven’t even gone to parties and big events yet. I do ask permission, even at this age when others don’t have to do so.

I’m not waging a vendetta nor do I want this family to break either. It’s just sad that in trying to hold everything together without proper communication, does that have a high success rate?

Define good? Obedient, kind, nice, follower? Our feelings are being pacified, ignored and it doesn’t even count as being understanding.

But it always ends this way. I take the blame. I’m not understanding enough. I count and compare what others have that I do not. Okay, you win. I haven’t got the chance to win anyway. Don’t worry, I’ll keep a stronger heart even when it literally hurts badly sometimes. I’ll be fine.

Pretend it did not happen but it did. Deny everything, the world, is perfect. Frozen to silence…

It’s funny, it might be easier to be bad than be good, they would try to understand you that way. If you’re good, expectations are high up, farther than you can reach, every word you say is a mistake. Say your piece and your counting/comparing/complaining, keep silent and you’re a good little girl.

Sorry it had to come to this, sorry that your perfect world isn’t that perfect after all. Sorr that the bandages have come undone. Now the wounds are bleeding.. it would take time to heal. If I don’t speak up, talk about it or even cry, I’ll be insane. Can’t I be granted just that? The tears? If I’m not allowed to say anything that would anger you.

Just thinking about all those harsh words made me think where do I piece myself in all this equation. Abide, Comply, Concede, I, I, Commander.

It’s funny, I didn’t want chaos to happen, but some broken strings need effort to patch up, some wounds need mending, it does not fix itself on its own.

It’s funny, really funny… ignore everything, live in a bubble, paint a smile then maybe the whole jigsaw puzzle will be whole again.

Drop a piece and your wrong in every point. Forget it happened, even when your shattered inside. Pretend it will get better, and maybe it will.

The glass is breaking, every point is wrong, you expect understanding the way you have set things in motion. I give in every time, but it’s never enough.

Those don’t count, I guess. Understand all the way even when I have done just that all these years now.

My mind is going to explode, my heart is still beating, I should go on breathing.

Protect that piece but forgive me if I have raised a defensive armor. Sometimes the warrior gets tired too and wished to be protected too.

I cried a lot but the tears are still flowing…I planned to sleep and rest early but I couldn’t…

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