Monthly Archives: November 2016

All the Hurtful Things You’d Said to Me

I wish that I can say, that none of it mattered, but, it’d still, affected me, but, I’m slowly, becoming, desensitized to it.  All the hurtful things you’d said to me, had become, something, that fueled me, those awful words that had, gotten too deep, into my ear canals, had finally, made me deaf!

what it felt like at the beginning…not my photo…

All the hurtful things you’d said to me, after so many years, it’d, still hurt, but, a little less every single day, and, I suppose, that one day, all the hurtful things you’d said to me, will NO longer affect me, it’s just, that that day, hadn’t, “arrived” yet…

All the hurtful things you’d said to me, they don’t matter now, I’d become stronger, hearing all the hurtful things you’d said to me, and, they no longer, hurt me anymore, they’d become, nothing more than those cold winter winds that cuts through the skin on the surfaces now……………

and now…

no longer “registering”, ‘cuz I’d, tuned you O-U-T!!!

All the hurtful things you’d said to me, they’d, become, this never-healing infection of my childhood days, and growing up, I’d, carried all my scars that marked my body, and now, as I’d become, an adult, those scars became scabs, and, underneath those ugly scabs, there are, newly, grown-in layers of skin, waiting to come out.

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Filed under Abuse, Abuser/Enabler Interaction Style, Being Exposed, Bullying, Cause & Effect, Coping Mechanisms, Despair, Downward Spiral, Interpersonal Relations, Lessons, Life, Miscelaneous, Obstacles in a Relationship, Things Left Behind

A Child without Christmas

A child without Christmas, because s/he is orphaned, without love of anybody, left abandoned, in those drop boxes outside of those age-old churches…

A child without Christmas grows up, experiencing nothing BUT the icy cold weather, the coldness of other people’s stares, because s/he is unloved and unwanted.

here’s someone who probably wouldn’t experience Christmas as something wonderful, photo from online…

A child without Christmas, becomes lost around the holidays, and, everywhere s/he looks, there’s, so much love flowing from others’ lives, and, s/he grew even more resentful of life and fate!  A child without Christmas, how, does a child grow up without Christmas?  How can a child, NOT know ANY love, and still live to grow up into adulthood?  Or, maybe, the child without Christmas, had died, a long, long, long time ago, and, s/he became, another Ghost of Christmases Past?

A child without Christmas, feels the pain, creeping up, as the Christmas season draws near, and, s/he stopped, heading outdoors by mid to late-November, because the “scent” of the season grows stronger, as the year nears end………

how can you possibly think about what you’re getting for X’mas IF you can’t even have your most basic needs filled from day to day?  Photo from online…

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Filed under Being Alone, Cause & Effect, Childhood, Connections, Early Exposures, Interactions Shared with the World, Observations, Things Left Behind

Being Different…

I’m like you all, my classmates, but, not exactly, I have a mom, who’s from a foreign world as opposed to the one I’m currently “staying in”…

When I first entered into class, I spoke the mainstream languages with a perfect tone, absolutely NO weird accents, but, the other kids, they’d still, made fun of me.

not my drawing.

I tried to fit in, tried to engage myself into their discussions, but, every time they saw me approaching, they’d all just, scattered and dissipate, as if, they’re avoiding me, like I’m the plague or something!  And, it’d, hurt.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being different, but, the feedbacks from my external environment seemed to prove otherwise.  I keep on, getting the signals, that I should be thankful, being different from everybody else, and yet, in my day-to-day interactions, that “theory”, it just, can’t seem to work out that well at all!

not my picture.

And now, after being casted away, singled out by my cohort, I’m starting to feel ashamed of my difference, and eventually, I’d become, so scared of being different, that I’d do anything, to blend in with the rest of the crowd………

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Filed under Awareness, Being Alone, Being Exposed, Bullying, Discriminations, Life, Perspectives, Violence in Schools

Lives We Can’t Save…

There are, just, too many lives that we can’t save, we only have, two hands, and, looking out, there are, so many who are, hollering out for help, and, it’s just, IMPOSSIBLE, to get to all of them in time.

Lives we can’t save, what do we do with them?  They’re still alive for each of us, even AFTER they all died.  We are, forever, plagued, by the what could’ve beens and if…only’s…

…not my photograph.

Lives we can’t save, there’s, NOTHING we can do about them, they’re all, already dead AND gone, all we can do, is, stop focusing on the losses, and, focus more on what we’d done right.  But, it’s hard sometimes, ‘cuz, that life that’s lost, with you close by, had, imprinted itself, etched, onto your soul.

Lives we can’t save, no matter how hard we think, we can’t, go back to the past, and remake the choices we’d already made differently, to change the outcomes………

rescuers in the aftermath of an earthquake in Nepal, photo from online…

Those lives that we can’t save, are we going to, allow them, to imprint deeply, onto our guilty consciences, or, are we going to, turn cold, and, think to ourselves: it’s just the way things are, there’s no way of changing that now.

 

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Filed under Lives Lost, On Death & Dying, the Finality of Life

Watching You Leave, the Thoughts of a Mother

Translated…

On Sunday evening, my daughter with her huge backpack, is headed to her grandparents’ house, I’d sent her off by the door, and, nagged on how she’d not put her shoes on right, she’d mumbled back, “I’ll put it on properly in the elevator!”, I’d insisted that she was to, put her shoes on properly before she leaves, she’d, bent down, redid her laces with that unwillingness, and, I’d had, a few extra seconds, to stare at her.

Since a decade ago, my spouse’s name was stricken off my national identification card, I’d lost the days of accompanying her by the day, and only on the weekends, did we get time together to share. Every Friday evening, I’d, rushed off work, road across the city, to a kindergarten, to pick her up and, my daughter curled underneath the lamplight of the kindergarten, with her accompanying bunny, and, her eyes and smiles, turned into the stars in the skies the moment she saw me. Several years passed by, it’s now, that young woman who’d taken the MRT, the bus, to my place.

As the elevator headed downstairs slowly, I’d calculated the timing just right, went to the lanai to look, the red-topped bus slowly came close, and stopped, right underneath the bus stop; my daughter was sitting in it, her huge white backpack on her legs, with her eyes, staring up ahead, lips slightly curled upward. The autumn sun was eye catching, and, being able to travel on her own makes her excited.

Very long ago, I too, watched the bus as it sped off into the distance, imagined my own sunny and bright futures too, filled with a ton of dreams, embracing the impossibilities of life. back then, I’d never imagined, that in an unknown corner, there it was, my mother, with her tears, staring at the direction I left in.

And now, I’d become, an adolescent’s mother too, and, the once-a-week that we’d met, was what was left for me to take with in this richness of her youthfulness, but, became an aging life’s extravagance. The social media, the pop music, the trending novels, there is, no boundaries, in the world of a teenage girl, and all I could do, was smile by her side and accompany her, but I’d still, cherished the time we spent together.

not my photo…

I know, that one day, she will eventually own her own universe, write her own stories, and that I can’t, keep her all to myself. That mother was only a caretaker when she was younger, but not the one who’d owned her for this life, when she has the ability, to spread her wings and fly, or resting, on that tree on her own, she wouldn’t allow me to groom her, to smooth her feathers anymore, just as back then I’d left my own home too, although I’d bumped and fell, I’d never turned back toward my mother, and ask her to give me a hand.

And still, not butting into her life doesn’t mean that she’s not occupying my mind. After I’d lived alone for a bit, I read the words my mother wrote, “You will always be my child.”, no matter how bad life got, how awful living is, the mother will always recognize her own young; no matter how far you fly, the mother’s gazes will always be like that string connecting to the kite, glued, to the child’s body, hung there, not pulling the child down, close knit, but never broken off.

Right now, the bus my daughter rode is probably at the MRT station now. She’d, scanned her pass, and standing inside the trains, her feet, tapping to the music, reading through her book, an hour later, she will, arrive at her destination, happy, and safe and sound.

The thoughts of a mother, she’d watched her child come and go, from her place back to her husband’s home, and, she knew, that she needed to, let her daughter go, and the child is growing into a beautiful woman, and, she felt sad, because of how her daughter will eventually, spread her wings and fly, but that’s a part of what parents must face, because children WILL grow up, whether or NOT we want them to!!!

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Filed under Letting Go, Life, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values