"When you're fifteen, somebody tell you they love you you're gonna believe them. And when you're fifteen And you're first kiss makes your head spin around but in your life you do things greater than dating a boy on football team. I didn't know it at fifteen. When all you wanted is to be wanted. Wish you could go back And tell yourself what you know now. Back then I swore I'm gonna marry him one day then I realized some bigger dreams of mine. Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mine. We both cried. And when you're fifteen somebody tells you they you're gonna believe them. And when you're fifteen, don't forget to look before you fall. I found time can heal most anything and you just might found who you're suppose to be. I didn't know who I was suppose to be.. Fifteen.."
Gripping on the steering wheel, I cried my heart out to that song. That very same pain I have to go through like that poor girl in Taylor swift's song. The only difference, I was 18. I curse my life under my breath for my stupidity. Blaming myself day and night for giving away my life and my soul for a boy who vowed to be with me and the end of the day lied to me and leave me to die with nothing only but pain and shame. As I wipe the tear of my cheeks, I hit on the gas wishing I could just overturn the car and die. Conscience sipping its way through my mind. I need to pick my mom from school not to add up the misery and pain that's already there at home. My family will definitely fall apart if I die. My mom and my dad will definitely going to divorce because I'm not there to hold my parents together. My siblings can't move on because they need me to go through this hard time. I swallow every bit of pain and shame to the pit of my stomach. That very bit that I swallowed turn to stone.
Ignorance is my new best friend. Nothing satisfied me. Nothing cheered me. I grab my twilight: new moon book and continue reading it. Here I go again with her pain. Bella's pain. My pain. Sins of my past hung upon my neck. Dragging me down with my lowly life. Where is God? I see no God. I hear not His voice. I remember not Jesus. All I see is the pit of hell where I'm going to be for the rest of eternity. I'm destined to die in hell with the rest of scumbags and trash of the world. Enrage about my future and the lost of my soul, I was no longer an angel but a devil in disguise. Bloodlust that's all I know. I see no life. I see no future. I decided to hunt all of them down. One by one those who ruin my life. First stop, him. That very one man that took it all. When that moment arrive when I can feel their lives slipping away from my hands, I will devour their meat once they are dead. Why bother about God when you are already destined to rot hell. I'm already dead anyway. Why do I care. The Devil rejoice of what have become of me. Now he owns me.
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Thursday, March 10, 2011
They've come
There and back again. Uni life. First week, feels like I'm in the middle of semester. I got hit by huge assignments and projects tsunami. Drowning? You bet I will. In the end, to manage everything, I went out a LOT. Like really really A LOT. I'm glad Love was there and he still is here with me to go through it. I begin to settle in this week which is the second week. It's not only that that bugging me. These voices in my head. I've been trying to shut them up or kick them out. Usually I end up praying the Lord's prayer to go through it. Still praying it though. But the thing is, it intensify.
" You're not good enough", "you can't make it", "you are not what he wants", "he don't really love you", "you are not worth it", "you are nothing", you are good for nothing",... etc etc etc..
Blah.. blah.. blah.. it sucks to have that in mind. Well, I get it I'm not Gisele, Tyra, Heidi or Megan Fox. But I'm me. Seriously, guys may drool (they do, they even fantasized of having sex with them anyway), but I am who I am. I'm good in being me. Fragile yet hard. Kind yet cruel. Soft yet harsh. Nobody else can be me except me. Papa loves me anyway. Those voices are just like dust. It can be blown away by winds. So does guilt and the "I should be".
Being a girl is hard. What more a person like me who love to condemn myself. Well, most of us are. To really to absorb how much you value in someone's eye is harder than condemning yourself. I'm still learning though. Love, been telling me that I'm perfect to him. Yet, I feel I'm far from perfect. Not even close. I keep comparing myself to everyone I know or someone he knows. My definition of perfect, to be honest, I don't really know. Jessica Alba maybe. It's always been because of the outward appearance. Well, that's what people nowadays care about.
Silly. I know. Actually what I need is inner peace. Only Papa can give me that peace. Peace in accepting my imperfection. Peace in accepting that I'm not the smartest girl in class. Peace in accepting that I failed my subject.Peace in accepting that I'm such a slow learner. Peace in knowing that I'm not having good grades. Peace in accepting that I'm not miss world. Peace that I'm not what I expected to be. Peace to be free from all of this. Peace to live the life Papa wants me to live. His peace is all I need.
" You're not good enough", "you can't make it", "you are not what he wants", "he don't really love you", "you are not worth it", "you are nothing", you are good for nothing",... etc etc etc..
Blah.. blah.. blah.. it sucks to have that in mind. Well, I get it I'm not Gisele, Tyra, Heidi or Megan Fox. But I'm me. Seriously, guys may drool (they do, they even fantasized of having sex with them anyway), but I am who I am. I'm good in being me. Fragile yet hard. Kind yet cruel. Soft yet harsh. Nobody else can be me except me. Papa loves me anyway. Those voices are just like dust. It can be blown away by winds. So does guilt and the "I should be".
Being a girl is hard. What more a person like me who love to condemn myself. Well, most of us are. To really to absorb how much you value in someone's eye is harder than condemning yourself. I'm still learning though. Love, been telling me that I'm perfect to him. Yet, I feel I'm far from perfect. Not even close. I keep comparing myself to everyone I know or someone he knows. My definition of perfect, to be honest, I don't really know. Jessica Alba maybe. It's always been because of the outward appearance. Well, that's what people nowadays care about.
Silly. I know. Actually what I need is inner peace. Only Papa can give me that peace. Peace in accepting my imperfection. Peace in accepting that I'm not the smartest girl in class. Peace in accepting that I failed my subject.Peace in accepting that I'm such a slow learner. Peace in knowing that I'm not having good grades. Peace in accepting that I'm not miss world. Peace that I'm not what I expected to be. Peace to be free from all of this. Peace to live the life Papa wants me to live. His peace is all I need.
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