I want you to stop screaming my name, calling for me. I am done.
I said stop.
I want you to seal that mouth of yours. Stop telling me that and this. Stop scolding me when I take a moment to breathe from this choking air of expectations. Why do you always want to see me screaming my lungs off in frustration, my scalp bleeding as I rake my fingers over and over and my body convulsing from trying to vomit the self-pity and disappointment you make me swallow? Why?!
My chest feels like there’s a screw embedded to it and you just keep twisting it, twisting and twisting it until I even doubt of its existence as I become the very pain I have kept for a long time. I don’t know if removing that pain will even let me live or just empty out the blood that’s been keeping me alive all these years.
See? You did that to me. You made me want the pain and suffering I once feared. Yes, you. You reduced me into this stack of flesh who is anything but the person I dreamed to be . You slap me with the imperfections and failures of my being over again, yet again and again, until I believed I was exactly what you have defined me, that I am nothing and no one if I am not the name you’ve given me.
You. You made me forget that I am allowed to say the words “I can’t” and “I won’t” not because it is a privilege but it is my right as it is another’s. That I am allowed to curse this forsaken and disgusting world I live in. That I am allowed to walk away from the problems that exhausts me. That I am allowed to rest when everything becomes too much. You did not tell me that it was an option to trip and fall but still not feel hate against myself for not being as good as those in the finish line.
You did not tell me I can stop too.
Am I not allowed to do that? Am i not allowed to hug my knees as I cry from the scratches of falling, nevermind the race? Tell me! Am I not human too? Am I simply this mess of tears, of lies, of anger and of disappointment that you have labeled me?
Tell me, tell me, tell me!
Stop screaming and tell me!
If there is anything of an answer to these questions that weighs me down every night, that makes me ask my very own purpose in life and taints my soul with so much agony, then say it to me.
Yes, you. You there in the mirror. Why don’t you stop crying and tell me, am I not really worthy of it all?