Saturday, October 23, 2010

No Rights Reserved.

I think if I'm angry then that means there's a source for it. Yet, I just can't seem to find it. It's like a small parasite etched within and eating me from inside. All I can do is just thrash around with pain, making a scene while the rest of my friends wonder what's going on with me.

I prefer to bottle up my emotions. It is safer that way. People used to coax me to let it out, claiming they can understand, they can handle it. They don't and they can't. In the end, they just conveniently brush me off. And I'm thrashing more violently than ever with all those emotions that has ran amok.

I hate to complain. Coming from a comfortable middle class family, people constantly expecting me to whine at every vexations. Truth is, I don't have that right. The image of individuals facing a more challenging situation always throw me back. It felt as if someone is shaming and lashing at my face, and soon I'm pushed in deeper into my shell. 

Sometimes, I felt as if I don't have the right to be myself. I'm just being consumed slowly by an unknown that has known me so well.

Ph: Julius Kensan

"There in the midst of it,
 so alive and alone.
 Words support like bone."

 Fever Ray, Mercy Street.

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