Eyes Swollen Shut
As of the moment, I am writing with tears fresh and rolling on my face, skin blotched red with exertion, and breaths alternating with sniffles and sobs. But still I write, because I want to recount yesterday's memories that is etched in the list of torture my demons have gleefully gained.
Let's start at the beginning.
12th August 2015.
The UPU result is out and everybody is anxious to check out their future. Mine popped out in a single sentence. Science Information (Honours) Library Management Program in Puncak Perdana Campus, Puncak Alam, Selangor. That was it.
I am actually relieved to hear that I even GOT an offer. I figured, could be worse, right?
I gotta focus on the present and avoid any more screw ups. I know Mom and Dad and mostly everyone will be shocked and unhappy but what's done is done. Gotta roll with it, right?
Wrong.
Unhappy was the vaguest I could give.
As of yesterday, I had been flung against the wall of my mistakes repeatedly until there was nothing left of my self-esteem but fine fine dust. Mom had called me every single word my demons love to use to break me and they worked magnificent wonders coming from her mouth. With my demons, I could at least refute their credibility. I could say that they're wrong. I could choose not to believe them. But when Mom said it, how could it be anything but right?
I could do nothing but agree whole-heartedly.
Yes, mom, I'm stupid.
Yes, mom, I'm worthless.
Yes, mom, I'm useless.
Yes, mom, I'm a waste of space.
Yes, mom, I'm a selfish arrogant child.
Yes, mom, I'm an idiot.
Yes, mom, I'm garbage.
Yes, mom, I'm no better than my highschool dropout brother.
Yes, mom, I'm not worth being taken care of.
Yes, mom.
Yes, mom.
Yes, mom.
Dad would repeat the same procedure.
I hid in my room, curled in the smallest position I could bend my limbs in. I bit my lips to silent my sobs and cries. My tears can't make a sound no more than my voice could scream.
I could fight the world.
I could fight my demons.
I could fight my own brother.
But if my parents told me to jump, I'd ask how high.
After I managed to slow down the sobs and dry out my tears, Mom would burst into my room and repeat it all over again. She told me she wouldn't care anymore. Told me I'm not worth it.
I couldn't agree more.
I locked the door and cried till my eyes were swollen shut.
I fell asleep with tears fresh and running on my cheeks and my pillow drenched.
I woke up, only to continue another batch.
It's been the longest I could cry since I was 14. When every little thing upsets me and my brain would clog them up, leaving blank empty slots. A year fresh out of sexual abuse does that to you.
I don't blame them, you know. They are right, and I agree with them with my whole heart.
How do I even manage to get up every morning being the worthless waste of space that I am?
No one can hate me more than I hate myself.
They don't deserve a failure like me.
They've already got so many on their plates and I'm just making everything worse.
Why can't I just die?
Let's start at the beginning.
12th August 2015.
The UPU result is out and everybody is anxious to check out their future. Mine popped out in a single sentence. Science Information (Honours) Library Management Program in Puncak Perdana Campus, Puncak Alam, Selangor. That was it.
I am actually relieved to hear that I even GOT an offer. I figured, could be worse, right?
I gotta focus on the present and avoid any more screw ups. I know Mom and Dad and mostly everyone will be shocked and unhappy but what's done is done. Gotta roll with it, right?
Wrong.
Unhappy was the vaguest I could give.
As of yesterday, I had been flung against the wall of my mistakes repeatedly until there was nothing left of my self-esteem but fine fine dust. Mom had called me every single word my demons love to use to break me and they worked magnificent wonders coming from her mouth. With my demons, I could at least refute their credibility. I could say that they're wrong. I could choose not to believe them. But when Mom said it, how could it be anything but right?
I could do nothing but agree whole-heartedly.
Yes, mom, I'm stupid.
Yes, mom, I'm worthless.
Yes, mom, I'm useless.
Yes, mom, I'm a waste of space.
Yes, mom, I'm a selfish arrogant child.
Yes, mom, I'm an idiot.
Yes, mom, I'm garbage.
Yes, mom, I'm no better than my highschool dropout brother.
Yes, mom, I'm not worth being taken care of.
Yes, mom.
Yes, mom.
Yes, mom.
Dad would repeat the same procedure.
I hid in my room, curled in the smallest position I could bend my limbs in. I bit my lips to silent my sobs and cries. My tears can't make a sound no more than my voice could scream.
I could fight the world.
I could fight my demons.
I could fight my own brother.
But if my parents told me to jump, I'd ask how high.
After I managed to slow down the sobs and dry out my tears, Mom would burst into my room and repeat it all over again. She told me she wouldn't care anymore. Told me I'm not worth it.
I couldn't agree more.
I locked the door and cried till my eyes were swollen shut.
I fell asleep with tears fresh and running on my cheeks and my pillow drenched.
I woke up, only to continue another batch.
It's been the longest I could cry since I was 14. When every little thing upsets me and my brain would clog them up, leaving blank empty slots. A year fresh out of sexual abuse does that to you.
I don't blame them, you know. They are right, and I agree with them with my whole heart.
How do I even manage to get up every morning being the worthless waste of space that I am?
No one can hate me more than I hate myself.
They don't deserve a failure like me.
They've already got so many on their plates and I'm just making everything worse.
Why can't I just die?
Comments
Post a Comment