Let me tell you how does it feel to have bruises that were born from your father’s hands,
The same hands that touch you delicately to show how to ride a bike,
The hands that punch you for laughing too hard, or mentioning the wrong answer in every question he asked,
Let me tell you that black bruises disappear for a while,
And show themselves in a form of nightmare years after,
Your skin no longer hear the yells and curses,
But they remember each pain,
Each inch of your body spell fear as if it’s a prayer.
Let me tell you how does it feels to love and to hate the same psychotic all over again,
You spell his name and it always taste like forgiveness,
Even long after he kicked the shit out of you,
Even long after he couldn’t remember any bruises he made.
Let me tell you how does it feel to have a psychotic father - ZS (via zhizhisiregar)
Take a moment of silence for The World Mental Health Day.
You know what’s wrong about girls who fall in love? They compete. They always compete with someone else. The other girl from the past. The ex-girlfriends. The future wife who isn’t even there yet. The stranger that he flirts. The perfect girl who sang him a song with her beautiful voice and uploaded it to Soundcloud.
And as always, you’ll lose every time. You’ll end up feeling miserable, defeated, unworthy. It’s all because of the thing that only exist in your mind: jealousy.
I wish I could free myself from this very tiring feeling called love and do something better for my own sake. I wish love won’t be this exhausting. Self-destroying. But it turns out, it’s not love that caused all the trouble. It’s the low self-esteem that kills the most.
And all you can do is walk away before it’s too late. Before all the jealousy eat you from the inside until there’s nothing left to define you.
Despite all the good thing he ever said to me, I am pretty sure that his answer when the newest girlfriend asks about me is nothing more than:
“Oh she is just an obsessed ex girlfriend who always beg to come back, hallucinate all my posts are about her, and write me random stuffs that she thought would be romantic but turns out to be creepy and crappy all over her Tumblr. She’s kinda crazy, you know.”
—How Would You Describe Your Ex? - ZS
I am that kind of woman who always ask for more, even if the answers kill me little by little. I hope this is how the heart works: it hurts so bad until at one point I can’t feel the pain anymore. Maybe one day it won’t hurt anymore. Maybe one day. Presumably not today.
—Unscientific Essay About Breaking Up -ZS
How come you never watch horror movie in cinema?"
“Why? You don’t find enough horror in our adult life?
So I drown myself into the meaningless lousy music, turn up the volume until my ears bleed, until my head explodes like the way my heart shattered into pieces. It’s not sadness that hurts the most. It’s the handful of ‘what if’ that keep my eyes open night after night.
One day, I’ll turn into something brave and fierce. Stand tall. Head up. Cry for one whole day and get over it, like nothing ever happened. Until then, I’ll just bite my trembling lips every time these tears trying to betray my pride.
—This is broken heart in silence look like - ZS
After gaining back my sanity, which took a lot of time and bravery, I do what normal human being always do after a silent break-up, the one where we simply drifted apart from each other: I reflect.
I am looking back like watching old movie, see how could such a beautiful thing like me and him ended so abruptly. If only I wasn’t too focus on the good memories, I can see clearly that I wasn’t too happy either.
We both had a huge ego, bad memories about our relationship, cheated here and there, once or twice, caging me in a prison of insecurity. And even if I was always so happy around him, we never had a good or funny conversation. We didn’t understand each other, we didn’t talk much: we kiss. The only thing we had in common and we always talk about is about how much I love him, or how much he loves me, although we both had no idea how can we love each other.
The simple realisation struck me like a lightning, burn me inside and out with a shameful fact: I am in love with the idea of him, not he himself.
—The Art of Losing You - ZS
Why is it love often appears selfish?
When did it stop being about the person you love? Is it the world we live in today?
Too many proclamations and not enough love. All of the words offered appear to begin with “I”. Love; when did it become about what the object of our desires do for us? When did it stop being about just loving them?
Was it ever there?
I love you
I love you because
I, I, I…………
Loving in silence is what I have learnt.
As a dystopian novel, I found myself keep comparing this book with George Orwell’s (Animal Farm) or Margaret Atwood’s (The Handmaid’s Tale). The writer built the characters and setting in a very strong foundation. But I didn’t found enough conflict or philosophical questions inside the book. I also found myself dissatisfied with the ending. But it’s probably because I have to read all of the other 3 before judging them.
However, it’s 7 out of 10.
But I’ll be definitely watch the movie.
#bookreview #book #writing #review
All of these years,
I’ve been writing you love letters.
In my mind, on my tongue, beneath my throat.
Just because I wrote you poetry
In a language that you don’t understand.
Doesn’t mean it’s not there.
Touch me everywhere,
I’ll show you the song inside every trace.
The idea of losing you, as I always believe, is painful. But it is nothing to compare with the feeling I got when I realized that I’m not irreplaceable. You’ve always been the biggest part of my existence, yet it wasn’t enough for you then. It’s not enough for you now.
It’s driving me crazy. The feeling of defeated, inferiority, the fact that I’m inadequate to anyone to love.
But can I really blame those who can’t love me as much as I love them? The pain that I brought for myself is not anyone’s fault. It’s me. Shame on me for digging too deep. Shame on me for loving too much.
—My Sanity After Losing You Again and Again - ZS