My mind is a mess. I feel like it’s going to EXPLODE any time soon. I want to scream my heart out, till all the air in my lungs has been expended. I want to destroy something, smash it with a baseball bat. I want to vent out all the anger, all the hurt that I feel inside of me. I want to get rid of this poisonous hatred that has snaked itself inside me. If not, then…

I want to fade away.

ESCAPE.

Now, I understand why “it” happens.

ESCAPE.

I feel choked. My soul is slowly fading into nothing. My life is slowly being squeezed out of me. What difference would it make if I lived or died? My soul, in a few years’ time, would be gone for good and I would be as good as dead. I struggle to try and break free but the hands that strangle me seem to be made of steel. Sadness seems to have become my shadow where even in the happiest of moments, even in the brightest of lights it will find its way behind me; A dark cloud that has momentarily been pierced by a shaft of light, only to disappear behind the same ominous curtain.

Yet, I cannot but submit myself to these iron hands. For these iron hands belong to the ones I love and care for the most.

I chose not to rebel. Oh, I tried, yes I tried. But I thought what good would it bring me? It would only destroy me, bring nothing but the worst out of me and make my life even more complicated than it already is. So I chose not to rebel.

But I am tired.

I am tired of always having to be strong. I am tired of always having to do things by myself. I am tired of making their THOUGHTS my own, unconsciously pretending that this is what I want, this is what would make me happy… this is what would make ALL of us happy. All the while, the dreams I hold closest to my heart have to be pushed aside if not forgotten. Those simple dreams that would have kept me sane and at least salvage a part of my life have constantly been buried. They say that it’s for my own good and I believe them. But when I have started to live their dreams, there I have ended mine. I do not blame them, no. It is of my own fault that I have not fought hard enough to retain my individuality. I aim to please and I have never been too comfortable with the idea that someone, especially someone dear to me, is angry or worse, disappointed in me. So this is the path I chose time and time again, only to realize that I have lost myself in the process.

I tried to take “me” back. I tried to piece myself together. But soon I discovered the iron hands are firmly around me.

I still dream my dreams sometimes. I laugh hollowly, secretly, when they ask me why I don’t follow MY dreams anymore. And there was one moment, one glorious moment when my voice tried to speak out, that I told them they never wanted me to pursue it anyway. For a moment, it left them too stunned to speak; But only for a moment.

How hard it is to fight a losing battle. How hard it is to suppress a voice that aches to speak out and be heard, truly heard and truly understood even for once. Which, when it shyly tries to speak out would soon be cowered into silence by voices louder than its own, uttered by tongues sharper and more precise in delivering the most painful lines. I have tried to be heard in different ways. I shouted, I rebelled, I cried. I tried logic, I tried reason, I tried letters, even silence. But it always ends the same way: they placate me and sweep it under the rug or threaten me into submission. All the while the rug has turned from a mole hill to a mountain. The words and the pain they’ve caused have formed the prison bars of the Alcatraz that have locked up my soul.

I do not know what will become of me. I do not know if I could do this to myself. Make myself disappear from the face of the earth. For I love life, in the hopes that someday, maybe someday my life would be my own. I want to wake up to that morning knowing that from that day forward, I would wake up to a life that is geared towards fulfilling my hopes, my dreams, my passion.

A life where I AM FREE.