Tipping to the Edge
So many things backfired today. Where do I start?
You know that little things, when piled up, become one large humongous pile? Remember when I said I should start loving myself to counter the amount of self-hate I have in me?
Well, that's one of the things that backfired.
Among the others.
This morning started out normal enough. Sis was a little bit pissy but nothing out of the ordinary, I guess. Baby bro's gonna go back to his hostel this evening, as usual. She had berated me for my inability to yet drive a car safely and the brief pang ofshame, disappointment, failure hurt was no stranger. Being degraded these days isn't uncommon for me after the colossal mistake that cost me my degree offer. I suppose it's a fair punishment.
I hadn't intended to be so petty, and I wasn't ignoring her on purpose.
By that time, the screams were getting too loud to ignore.
I should've written down about it when it started a few weeks ago but somehow I've stopped doing things I love and things that made me happy. I've stopped visiting my sanctuaries.
This inevitable scream had just broke down all of a sudden and gone on and on since, and I say 'SCREAM' because it's only one voice.
Mine.
I've ran out of spaces in my sketchbooks from drawing her over and over again. The same posture, the never-ending scream. I do things to drown her out, like chatting or reading or watching marathons and fangirling and they occupy my mind, enough for some peace. Even my demons had sat back quietly, not a peep out of them. My head is filled with her screams.
I can barely hear myself think sometimes.
And this evening, everything hit the shit.
My chest squeezed in, my lungs felt like the ribs were too small to hold it. The screams were deafening my ears and my head throbbed so fucking painful. I felt like imploding.
Sis was in the room with me, but naturally, none of us said anything.
It's not like I could've turned to her. What for? Hugs? Consoling words? Warmth?
I'm not the little girl she would soothe anymore. To her, the tears I shed is a sign of weakness, and I wouldn't last out in the world for it. Because she thinks I'm holding on to the past.
I didn't hide my sniffles, but I wouldn't look at her either.
Mom and Dad were outside, but we all know they would laugh and tease me for it. They were never an option. Besides, they have no idea of the things that made me this way.
Remnants of the broken child.
This family thrives and gives out tough love, from which I myself had integrated.
But after all what's happened to me, it would only push me over.
Hours passed, and it was getting dark.
I was getting past beyond logic and reason. The pain was unbearable.
I blanketed myself in hopes to steel myself from giving over. I was shivering with the ITCH to maim and slice and stab every inch of my skin till everything stops. The image of the small super sharp knife in the kitchen blazed at the front of my head. I never stopped crying.
I contemplated texting someone, asking for help. And my demons stepped in.
It's the weekend, you shouldn't interrupt.
She might be with her family, having some quality bonding time.
You'd be the dark cloud to rain on all that. Such a troublemaker.
He would give no shit. It's not like any of them have been trying to keep in touch at all, right?
How can someone who's in a full house feel so awfully alone?
All you do is ask for help.
Weakling.
FAILURE.
DISGRACE.
MISTAKE.
You're no fighter.
You're just a loser trying to redeem the impossible.
You'd die for your family, but they would rather laugh at your problems and tell you how much of a failure and a weakling you are. You bury your insecurities in bottles only to have them stare at you in the mirror. You're losing time. You're losing reason. You're losing MIND.
*SCREAMS*
I started making goodbye notes in my head. To each person who'd been in my life.
I'd put them along with the others in my laptop and give the directions to Amelia.
By then, I'd reached for my phone and started texting her and Fabio.
As I'd assumed, she was pissed.
She'd called me every insult there is to call and reasoned the usual argument against my decision. When I told her I loved her, my phone vibrated with her call. Her id picture came up, the one I used of her sleeping face up mouth open during a lecture in the halls. I hovered over the screen for a minute before swiping the green circle. Only because I missed that face so much.
The moment I hear her voice, I was wrecked. I had not uttered a sound other than deep breaths and sniffles from my nose. Never mind that I was convulsing sobs under the blanket in a fetal position.
I didn't say a word, only listening to her as she prodded me to speak. I couldn't, because my chest was still heavy with heaves and hiccups. I had to catch a breath.
Eventually, I could utter a short sentence in between.
She's undeniably angry, hurt, pissed, frustrated, and other emotions I probably could name. Called me a fucking liar, coward, tosser, asshole, and other creative insults she could come up with. Asked me whether I was gonna break every promise I had with her. To celebrate her birthday, and take her out for pizzas.
She asked me whether I was gonna leave her, like the rest of them had done.
She'd asked me to stay once, and I'd promised I will.
Was I gonna be a fucking traitor on top of being a fucking liar?
That had sobered me enough.
The fact is, I'd been so afraid and lonely and tired. Things at home aren't helping, more so the opposite. I continue to wallow in my gloominess for the reason my pride and shame wouldn't allow me to reach out.
Eventually, the screams had died out, and everything was quiet once more.
We said our goodbyes, and I was feeling a lot more in control.
How close to the edge had I been?
You know that little things, when piled up, become one large humongous pile? Remember when I said I should start loving myself to counter the amount of self-hate I have in me?
Well, that's one of the things that backfired.
Among the others.
This morning started out normal enough. Sis was a little bit pissy but nothing out of the ordinary, I guess. Baby bro's gonna go back to his hostel this evening, as usual. She had berated me for my inability to yet drive a car safely and the brief pang of
By that time, the screams were getting too loud to ignore.
I should've written down about it when it started a few weeks ago but somehow I've stopped doing things I love and things that made me happy. I've stopped visiting my sanctuaries.
This inevitable scream had just broke down all of a sudden and gone on and on since, and I say 'SCREAM' because it's only one voice.
Mine.
I've ran out of spaces in my sketchbooks from drawing her over and over again. The same posture, the never-ending scream. I do things to drown her out, like chatting or reading or watching marathons and fangirling and they occupy my mind, enough for some peace. Even my demons had sat back quietly, not a peep out of them. My head is filled with her screams.
I can barely hear myself think sometimes.
And this evening, everything hit the shit.
My chest squeezed in, my lungs felt like the ribs were too small to hold it. The screams were deafening my ears and my head throbbed so fucking painful. I felt like imploding.
Sis was in the room with me, but naturally, none of us said anything.
It's not like I could've turned to her. What for? Hugs? Consoling words? Warmth?
I'm not the little girl she would soothe anymore. To her, the tears I shed is a sign of weakness, and I wouldn't last out in the world for it. Because she thinks I'm holding on to the past.
I didn't hide my sniffles, but I wouldn't look at her either.
Mom and Dad were outside, but we all know they would laugh and tease me for it. They were never an option. Besides, they have no idea of the things that made me this way.
Remnants of the broken child.
This family thrives and gives out tough love, from which I myself had integrated.
But after all what's happened to me, it would only push me over.
Hours passed, and it was getting dark.
I was getting past beyond logic and reason. The pain was unbearable.
I blanketed myself in hopes to steel myself from giving over. I was shivering with the ITCH to maim and slice and stab every inch of my skin till everything stops. The image of the small super sharp knife in the kitchen blazed at the front of my head. I never stopped crying.
I contemplated texting someone, asking for help. And my demons stepped in.
It's the weekend, you shouldn't interrupt.
She might be with her family, having some quality bonding time.
You'd be the dark cloud to rain on all that. Such a troublemaker.
He would give no shit. It's not like any of them have been trying to keep in touch at all, right?
How can someone who's in a full house feel so awfully alone?
All you do is ask for help.
Weakling.
FAILURE.
DISGRACE.
MISTAKE.
You're no fighter.
You're just a loser trying to redeem the impossible.
You'd die for your family, but they would rather laugh at your problems and tell you how much of a failure and a weakling you are. You bury your insecurities in bottles only to have them stare at you in the mirror. You're losing time. You're losing reason. You're losing MIND.
*SCREAMS*
I started making goodbye notes in my head. To each person who'd been in my life.
I'd put them along with the others in my laptop and give the directions to Amelia.
By then, I'd reached for my phone and started texting her and Fabio.
As I'd assumed, she was pissed.
She'd called me every insult there is to call and reasoned the usual argument against my decision. When I told her I loved her, my phone vibrated with her call. Her id picture came up, the one I used of her sleeping face up mouth open during a lecture in the halls. I hovered over the screen for a minute before swiping the green circle. Only because I missed that face so much.
The moment I hear her voice, I was wrecked. I had not uttered a sound other than deep breaths and sniffles from my nose. Never mind that I was convulsing sobs under the blanket in a fetal position.
I didn't say a word, only listening to her as she prodded me to speak. I couldn't, because my chest was still heavy with heaves and hiccups. I had to catch a breath.
Eventually, I could utter a short sentence in between.
She's undeniably angry, hurt, pissed, frustrated, and other emotions I probably could name. Called me a fucking liar, coward, tosser, asshole, and other creative insults she could come up with. Asked me whether I was gonna break every promise I had with her. To celebrate her birthday, and take her out for pizzas.
She asked me whether I was gonna leave her, like the rest of them had done.
She'd asked me to stay once, and I'd promised I will.
Was I gonna be a fucking traitor on top of being a fucking liar?
That had sobered me enough.
The fact is, I'd been so afraid and lonely and tired. Things at home aren't helping, more so the opposite. I continue to wallow in my gloominess for the reason my pride and shame wouldn't allow me to reach out.
Eventually, the screams had died out, and everything was quiet once more.
We said our goodbyes, and I was feeling a lot more in control.
How close to the edge had I been?
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