Broken

It starts with 4. Just because it is my lucky number. Even though in Chinese numerology it means death. While I was on the bus coming home, I was thinking of writing again, starting an online blog. I feel like I am losing myself yet again. I no longer hear my own voice when I write. I have actually stopped writing. I do not know why. 

Actually, I do know. I noticed that all of my writings only revolved around my being pathetically in love with him. It was like a broken record, an irritating one. And I knew I had to stop and move on.

In the process of moving on, I became silent. I don’t know. I started criticizing my ideas even before I can type them out. I’m always thinking this is not good, this is too corny.

But then again I’m thinking, I am not writing for other people but for myself. I am tired of thinking of an audience whenever I write. I am tired of censoring myself, of letting too much of myself be seen through my writing.

My feelings for you before was my most guarded secret.

I had let it out. Now you know how much I love you and now you understand why I behave so erratically most of the time. I don’t think you know the extent of the damage that you have caused though. It’s irreversible. But I am resilient. I have survived. And I will continue surviving just to spite you. I do not want this piece to be about you. This has to be about me. A part of me wants revenge. I want you to go through what I had been through. What I am going through. The hurt and the humiliation. I hate you. But I know that I still need you. Thus I cannot afford to cut my ties. Soon maybe. But not now.

Actually I no longer care if you read this or not. I feel numb. I do not want to feel anymore. I just want to fill my heart with hatred and contempt for you. I think that would help me survive than allowing myself to wallow in the pain.

I will rise above. I will strive hard to be so successful until you can no longer reach me. Call me bitter but I do not care. I have my family to live for as well. I will not allow myself to die. I haven’t left any legacy yet. I feel tired but it feels so good to write again. Most of the time I just allow myself to be drowned by my own words. I resist the urge to type them out. But now, it’s a new year and I will say what I want to say. Thank you though for breaking me. 

No more edits, no more drama.