Resurrection In 2018

“I am destroying myself so other people can’t,” she said, “and it’s the worst kind of control but it’s the only form I know.”
― Sue Zhao

I’m back! And it’s a new year, so new me? You bet. A more determined, confident, and driven me.

2018 is kind of getting off on the right foot. Batman and I over, romantic relationship-wise. We’ll probably still be friends and he may be around in some aspect. He also may not. For once, I genuinely think I’m okay with that. More on that later.

Batman and I have also shared the same roof for about two years now. It certainly put our relationship into perspective. If anything, it highlighted how incompatible we are for each other. So, I’m currently looking for a new place. I was looking last month as well but got lured into staying by the amount of money I’d be saving by staying with him. What changed? Me. I’m not that strong to continue staying when I know he’s not good for me, emotionally. And I did not piece myself together as I am to have him undo it. I’m not perfect but I’m sane, I’m coping. He took me back to a version of myself that I never want to be again.

New year, new start, new semester, new me. I feel resurrected or as if I’m finally waking up from a long slumber and oh, boy, did I sleep. To 2018!


Devil’s Heart

The stranger gave no reply and she didn’t dare look up. Instead, leaves rustled under foot as he stepped closer. Another gust of wind brought forth the scent of stale coffee as the stranger took another step forward. She tensed, prepared to run but some instinct told her she wouldn’t get far. He hadn’t seemed out of breath in the slightest when he’d appeared out of thin air earlier. He’d followed her and perhaps it had been the thrill of the chase that had made his eyes shine as they did.

Cold fingers gripped her chin, cold as a corpse some irrational part of her mind mumbled, and forced her to look into eyes that seemed to shine as radiant as the sun. Something inside her screamed. Then a thin red line at his neck caught her gaze. She frowned as it appear to widen. Her eyes widened with shock and her heart froze as the line widen and oozed until he his head slid clean off his shoulders. A scream got caught in her throat as the body slowly dropped to its knees and did a slow descend to the ground.

Personal · Poetry



He says I do not think for myself

Perhaps he’s right

Perhaps I present to him a blank canvas

To fill with his words, wants, desires, dreams, disappointments

Paint me, make me, shape me, mold me, break me



Love me.


First Kiss

“And how do I kiss”, she stammered out.

He leaned in ever so slightly, bringing with him a waft of chocolate as his lips twitched and he murmured, “You kiss as if you’ve never been kissed before.” She blushed and averted his eyes, refusing to admit he’d hit the nail on the head.

Another whiff of chocolate had her glancing up and meeting his knowing gaze. Mischief sparkled in his eyes. His lips curved into an evil smile as he replied, “Perhaps I should give you a real kiss then.”


My Enemy

It waits. It listens. It stalks.

It pounces. It attacks. It devours.

If I had to describe my depression/anxiety, I’d describe it as a gaping maw waiting for me, waiting to devour me, to drag me asunder.

It attacks out of nowhere, destroying an innocuous moment.

I just wish I could be normal. Sane.

I wish my mind wasn’t out to destroy me.

I have so many scars, physical, emotional, and mental. I’ve opened myself to so many people, only to be left out in the cold.

I wish I couldn’t feel.


I kind of don’t know what to say after that. My depression is hitting hard. I always wonder what life would be like for those I care about if I weren’t in theirs. I know mine would be a lot more bleak.

I just wish I could undo all the damage that has been done. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be in my skin, in my mind, in my life.

Some things are ruined for me and I  mourn their loss so keenly. At times like this, I hate him. I wonder if I’d feel better if he were rotting in a prison cell somewhere. If I came to him, damaged as I am, forced him to see what he’s done to me, would he care? Would it matter, would it change anything if he showed a sliver of remorse?

No. I don’t think it would.


Childish Reflections

“One ought to hold on to one’s heart; for if one lets it go, one soon loses control of the head too.”
―Friedrich Nietzsche

I’m lonley. And depressed.

I don’t know why I stay most of the time.

My younger sister, my absolute other half, is in Texas with my mom. Most of my friends have drifted off and doing their own thing. I think that if I hadn’t met Garrett when I did, I may have slit my wrists a long time ago.

I think what I value the most is the companionship. I know in my heart of hearts that this isn’t going anywhere but I don’t want to be alone. Many times I’ve been on the verge of giving up and he’s beeen the voice of reason that brought me back. He’s become my rock.

I’ve been alone for so long, dealing with my abuse on my own, its nice to have someone to distract me from all that. He helps bring me out of my headspace. . . . . But at what expense?

Am I happy? Life is making it harder to say yes, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I think my PMS sends my depression and mood swings into overdrive. I get really depressed close to around that time. But that logic doesn’t make the thoughts go away or cause them to lose their validity. I just only mediate on them when I’m upset. Otherwise, they’re just lurking in my subconscious, waiting to be given voice. I realize that I bottle a lot of things. It’s unhealthy but how else am I supposed to stay sane?

“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”
― Philip K. Dick