Let me dream.

Stronger [8]

Monday, September 7, 2009

Hey world.

I'm still alive, so surprisingly. Still able to talk and laugh, and run and jump. Like nothing had happened to me at all. Everyth still looks the same. Except the fact that there are numerous scars across my calves and back. Swollen, bled, and blue-black.

I have nothing to say to it. There is nothing left to say anyw. The harm's done and nothing can change it. And now there is evidence all over me to remind me of the hatred. I knw that nothing can salvage this, because it's been so long, and we've had so many talks. But it just doesn't work, because you never can seem to understand what little things I feel.

You don't understand what the whole issue is about. It is really not something so minute as you see. It's how you trample all over me every time. You don't see all that I have actually done for you, and dismiss it halfheartedly. Have I not done everyth you want, the way you want it, by the time you want it before? Have I not listened to your every word and bidding, and did as I was told?

How could you just ignore everyth that I spent my time and effort on?

You never seem to see that the things you say and do actually cause me hurt. Are you trying to make yourself feel better? To convince yourself that you actually are in control of the whole situation? Or were you too unhappy to see me getting on each day like normal, without any difficulty, much as you would like to see struggling? Was that why you let the cane rain on me, let me bleed, and see me cry?

You just want to see me inferior to you, don't you? You want to see my pleading for you to stop, and backing away from you and your cane.
But I did not plead, and I did not cower. Even as you caned me, again and again, I did not back away. Did not even flicker. I let you hit me, again and again. I'm not sure why I did. But no, it's not because of your tears. Your tears are worth nothing, and I feel nothing seeing you shed them.

If hitting me makes you feel better, you can. But you can see it yourself, that I am no longer afraid of you, or anyth you do, like I used to be.

So what if you've give me my phone back, given me my allowance back, helped me do the laundry and ironed my clothes for me? I don't need you. Nor any of these things you do. Now it seems like I have a burden to carry. All over again. Did you think that after hitting me so madly yesterday, you can revert to doing those things willingly? You just needed to vent your frustrations on me? And after that, everyth would be fine?

You're a sick woman. And I still yearn to grow up and be free from you.

And I will be fine. Just like nothing had ever happened. And when those wounds heal itself bit by bit, until it finally disappears, you might be fooled into thinking that nothing really happened. But I won't.

I should let the whole world knw about you and your abusive behaviours. There must be at least 20 wounds on my body. I hope you feel guilty looking at my bleeding, sore and ugly legs now. And I will not wear anyth long enough to deliberately cover it.

Still alive, still alive.
Sometimes I'm really thankful that I am so strong-willed. And I will not crumble and fall, just because of you. All the pain I'm feeling now, is just numbing me more and more. I shall never believe that you loved me as your own, nor that you have my interests at heart. I never felt so, probably never will feel so.

You should wonder over why I never ask for things from you, and why I never repeat my requests. It's simply because I knw you won't see it the way I do, I'd given up since long ago. What's the point really, of wasting my breath on someone who will never understand.

You claimed that you would understand and let me off if I'd asked nicely the second time. That's just what you think. I'd done it so many times that I'd given up totally. Stopped asking totally. Because you just won't understand.

You think that everyth you do is justified and I am the biggest spoilt brat in the world. Let me tell you this. No spoilt brat stands years of doing chores for you like your free maid. No spoilt brat stands there doing nothing while you hit her. No spoilt brat gives you face like I gave you face.

You always claim to knw me inside out. So what do you really understand about me in all these years? Nothing huh, I can tell. Such a great disappointment. I thought things needn't have to end this way.

My heart is brimming with emotions that, even after writing all these, it has not settled one bit. But I already don't knw what else can I say. Don't even knw what else I can do.

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Sinyee. 17.
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Wants a day of extensive retail therapy, good food and fun.

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