I have made mistakes in the past. Have said things I did not mean. Only a mirror that reflects, I inflict pain only when it is inflicted at me. Nobody sees the things I do. I am not looking for credit nor praise but I would rather not be judged by what they do not see, by what they do not know, by what they merely think is true. Hypocritical maiden, all in her glory and smiles... when her narssasistic conceitedness, her obsession with her own reflection is what eats her away. Pretending to be a better person than she is, claiming herself to be a woman of God.. lying that she has upheld all his principles when she herself holds her vanity over everything else.
A 'lecheng yawa', a [******** devil... is what she calls me. I have not forgiven her for it. It burns deep scars into my heart and everytime I think about it, it stings me. A thousand apologies will not make me forget the pain that it has incurred upon me. That I grew to hate myself and find that the cord of leather has found its way to my neck as tears continued to flow, 'I'm a ******** devil, I'm a ******** devil...' I had chanted and I had tightened the cord. My sobs bounced on the tiles of the room, my ears red but my face had paled.
The cord had reached its point, I stared at the mirror, seeing me choke myself and seeing my cowardice. I grew ashamed of my pathetic image and its memories brought tears and sorrow to my being as I write this.
Yes, I choked myself.. I wanted to die. I wanted them to find my lifeless body after breaking the door open, staring blankly at the ceiling with my face at loss of color and life. I wanted to let her see what she has made me become. What darkness she has instilled in my heart... that made me want to wipe myself out of existence.
Upon daybreak, I had once made myself a reflection of her... I had not realized I had suddenly become her and the words rolled off my tongue as if it had been my second language. I hated myself then. In their eyes I've always hated myself. I hated the way they expected me to fail, hated the way how ugly, miniscule and incompetent I've always felt everytime I looked into their eyes. Their words like barbed wire meshing against my flesh as they spoke, feelings the earth's thorns rise up from the ground and strangle me. And she appeared dressed in robes of white, 'No matter how angry you are, you must never say curses.' And yet, she has but put a curse upon me. My heart tightens and I stare back at her, hoping she could see the reflection of herself in my eyes. Hoping she could see how ugly she has made me feel, hoping she could see how ugly she has made me.
Looking for salvation, lying to herself as she lifts her hands to pray to the higher Gods for the blessings they've bestowed upon her. I have never seen a more tainted nun. I have never seen a group of pretenders mingle with those of pure heart, pretending that they themselves are pure of heart such as in the place where they claim is holy. It disgusts me how they regard themselves as pure when only the real pure of heart exists so little among them. Leaving their lives to their God when they cannot find themselves to manage their own lives on their own. She finds failure in herself that she has not brought me into the arms of God.
But..
If she is what I would become in the arms of God, then I would rather not be subjected to such transformation. She blames me for my views on the world when I no longer have my faith. She speaks from the pastor's mouth, not her own. She speaks from the bible, which has been written by men and revised through generations.
And she finds all the excuses to blame everything around me. Including blaming inanimate objects.. but worse, blaming those who are precious to me. My friends. If it weren't for them, I would have already tightened that belt around my neck and be done with it. But she doesn't know. She was never there. She never had companions who made her feel good to be alive, companions who made her want to continue living, companions who believed in her. She never had comrades who were there when nobody else was. She never had anyone who LISTENED when all she would be doing is punching her calloused fingers into her inanimate object and divulge herself into her cosmetics, vanity and luxury.
Spending money left and right, hiding secrets behind my father's back... finding value in a Rolex watch when all it carries is its brand!? Keh... to a point where she borrows her sister's watch, a sister of whom she was not allowed to speak with because of that woman's unmarried relationship affair with another man. Sheep. That is what she is. 'Everyone has one. Everyone is doing it' It shames me to hear these words come out of her mouth. Someone who cannot think for herself. Someone who relies on the words of God or the words of man to continue living and shaping her lifestyle.
A mere drawing which I put my heart and soul into for her birthday was just carelessly discarded. It held no meaning to her. And I highly doubt she has ever tried to find it. Upon holding that paper in my hands, I held it by the edges and ripped it apart for her never to find. I regret making it. I regret even attempting. Why should I be surprised? She values her cold, expensive, Rolex to something her own child made for her with the best of efforts. But does it warm her materialistic heart? No it does not. Why would she value a piece of paper over something worth several thousands of paper money?
Donating to charity one minute,and yelling at the maids for being slow in accomplishing their tasks in the next... Bat. Two-faced. Only wants to make herself look good upon the eyes that are watching her in society. Spending on her face, her body, her tailor-made dresses -- to make herself appear beautiful and young when she could be using the money to save for the future. All that makeup and surgery might be able to hide her age but it is temporary. Just as materials in this world are temporary. Temporary things that she values and treasures, forever discontent with everything that she has. Always wanting more, always wanting to remain young, always obsessing with removing those eyebags from under her eyes when nobody else but her notices or cares about them.
Nobody cares what she looks like. Always fishing for compliments on being pretty, fashionable, with the idea of being a 'cool mom'. She only imagines people talking about her and how beautiful she is so she fascinates herself with her own imagination of how everyone expects her to dress the best, look the best, and be the best when in truth--- nobody really cares if she has eyebags under her eyes, much less if she grew a mole the size of a pea on the side of her face.
Note: This entry is.. well, about my mother. More of a rant than a story or poem, really. She's always trying to get me to be Christian like herself.... It's not that I have anything against the religion. It's just I really don't believe and I have a different way of thinking. I didn't mean to offend believers in what I have written as these are just my POVs. People in general should believe what they want to believe if it will make them a better person. But they should also remember that they shouldn't rely solely on their God but know that he will help only those who have done something about it.
But I don't believe in forcing others into your religion when they simply don't have the same beliefs. Just because I'm leaning more into becoming atheist does not mean I'm going to turn out to be a bad person. That's generalizing. Basically religion doesn't necessarily shape the morals and values of a person but the person itself who decides on his/her principles. Saying that atheists don't have morals and values is just plain ignorance.
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Scars of the Heart
Just a forewarning though. These entries of mine were done when I was feeling most negatively emotional so don't judge me by what I've written. If you don't like angst, then don't read. It's not like someone put a gun to your head to force you to rea
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