A short ramble of a distant memory: I remember that moment when I laid in a hospital bed and thought how did I get here? Why did I allow myself to go this far? When will I be good enough to survive all of this? Where will I go after this? How will I manage? I remember how you wouldnt even visit me. Those nights I laid alone, sleeping with my eyes tightly shut, body pumping with medication, veins pulsing with drips. When I came home. You glared at me. Called me names. I just laughed it off. Was it really all my fault? No. No. No. For days I didnt even have enough physical strength to even climb up the stairs. He had to carry me, eyes bloodshot from tears at the thought of almost loosing his daughter. You just laid there drunk and arrogant. I wish he never lifted me up or I never climbed up those stairs simply to lock myself in my room, shaking by pains my body could only caress. I healed over time, still scarred from the treatment. Still crossing over a bridge so weak and pale, stretched along rope ends sun-bleached to at each thread. All you do is sit and stare. Judge when you feel it plausible. Remaining as careless as you were before. Sometimes...I wish my treatment failed and my body wasnt strong enough to withstand everything. When will I be good enough? Where will I go now? How will I manage? You will never see eye-to-eye. You refuse. But its okay. We both are okay. I love you anyway.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 06:46:45 +0000
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