I have forgotten who I am.

The dark winter night of life’s trials and hardships has frozen my memory.

My mind is wholly formatted; I have no recollection of the past.

There is a gnawing feeling in the dim recesses of my soul.

This pulsating emotion reminds me of the void within me; I have no souvenir of the “real me.”

The information I need lays shrouded in deep secrecy, that I can’t get even a glimpse of it.

There is a throbbing, pulsating hollow emptiness within me.

This yawning chasm came into existence when “real me” was yanked and uprooted out of my heart.

I am now but a husk.

A robot that functions through sheer habit, and mannerisms seared into my body.

The essence of me is gone.

That is why I don’t know who I am any more.





She sat still, her empty eyes lost in the distance.

She recounted the events that had taken place.

Her voice was a barren desert, devoid of emotion.

She had tutored her face well.

Her countenance was quiet and obedient.

Her face flowed with her emotions seamlessly.

Her visage was blank, akin to a virgin canvas waiting for the artist to paint life on it.

She rambled on rarely stopping to catch her breath.

Her words were coherent despite the monotonous robot-like delivery.

Once she finished talking, she looked squarely at the interlocutor’s face.

A big smile suddenly hugged her countenance, bringing her face to life.

She thanked him, stood up, and left the room.

She strode off without a backward glance.


What made me so upset?

Was it the silence?

Was it a lack of interest?

Was it the delayed action on their part?

Was it all that?

Or was it something deeper?

Was it something I hid from myself?

Was it something I did not want to face?

Wasn’t it this part of me that I had buried so deep within me, that it ceased to exist?

Was it the fear of rejection?

Was it the thought of being betrayed, that made me freeze?

Was it the fear of being insignificant?

Was it F.O.M.O, the fear of missing out?

Do tell me, my dear self!



Enjoy every moment.

You are a winner.

You aren’t a whiner.

You are amazing.

You are stronger than you think you are.

The fears,

The jeers,

The tears,

The growls,

The snarls,

The groans,

The pain.

They are all gain.

All these experiences are the building blocks that have made you.

Yes! Hardship is the furnace that has purified the gold that you are.




Treat you right; I want to.

Speak to you gently; I long to.

Uplift you; I yearn to.

Build you up; I want to.


I have fallen short of my good intentions.


I cut you down.

I dress you down.

I demean you.

I dismiss you.


I look out for any little mistake you make.


I pounce on you.

I devour you.

I shun you.

I shame you.


I burn you down with my words.


Not perfect yet?

I loathe you.

Are you showing signs of weakness?

Keep off me!


Oh! Poor you.

Oh! Dear me.

Oh! Poor us.

Oh! What to do now?


How do I build up this bridge I destroyed?

How do I breach this gap between us?

How do I heal these wounds I inflicted on you?

How do I bridge the chasm between us?


Let me go!

Release me!

Love me!

Forgive me!


These are the flimsy tokens I can offer you for now.


I know it will take time.

I know it is a process.

I understand it is a journey.

It takes time to build the trust that I broke and heal your wounded heart.


I am all in, let us take it at your pace.

Test and prove me to your content.

But I implore you, don’t shut me out.

Don’t push me out of your life.








I am seething, enraged, broken, and hurt.

I long for respect, understanding, empathy, and companionship.

Why do you neglect this cup of mine that you’ve drunk dry?

Why do you yell and demand that I fill your cup to the brim?

I have poured myself out over and over again.

You have drunk of me gustily, greedily.

You care not if there’s anything left for me.

I am taking care of me now.

No longer will I spend me dry.

I will keep a reserve for me.

Now I quench my thirst first before I pour out unto you.

It makes you mad?

You don’t appreciate me any more, now that I am holding back?

It is well.

I wish you well.

I will not let you drink from my well.

I now have boundaries.

I care for me.

It was long overdue. 




I don’t like me.

I hate my body.

I loathe my mannerisms.

I want to be different.

I want to be anyone else but me.

I can’t stand being around me.

My company makes me cringe.

You may find it horrible to hear me talk about myself this way.

It is the truth; I dislike, no, I despise, no, I hate me!

I don’t want to be a hypocrite about it.

I am never kind to me.

I keep breaking the promises I make me.

I am a bore; I don’t play any more.

I am always angry, sour, and bitter.

I spew my bile on unfortunate bystanders.

These innocent bystanders find themselves in the middle of my dispute with myself. 

I am tired of me.

Hmm……! Wait a minute!

Am I missing something here?

If I don’t love me as I am, then who will?

I know myself more than anyone ever will.

I might as well have to learn to get along with me.

Maybe, oh, perhaps I will eventually love me.




The door swung open abruptly.

She gasped as the yawning opening sucked her in.

She staggered and spread her arms in a bid to steady herself.

She had never imagined that another world existed.

This world existed behind the door of her well-formed opinions.

She looked around, feeling small and insignificant.

She was mesmerized, as she took in the new world unfolding before her.

It shook her to the core, as she grappled with the enormity of her discovery.

She would never be the same again.

She couldn’t unsee what she had seen.




I cannot give what I don’t have.

I never realized how profound these words were.

I have been running at a deficit.

I low-key bash myself.

I silently loathe, hate, despise me.

I never tolerate nor forgive my weaknesses and failures.

Whenever I miss the mark, I deem myself a failure.

My do doesn’t define me, isn’t that the truth?

I am more, much more than what I do, aren’t I?

Oh! Dear me, let me go!

Release me!

Love me!

Heal me!

Keep me tenderly close to you.

Please do so that I may finally be whole.

Fill me up with self-love and acceptance.

Quench my thirst that I may overflow.

Release me to love me, dear self!




I hear your fear.

I see your arrogance.

I hear your panic.

I see your abrasiveness.

I hear your dread.

I see your aggressiveness.

I hear your doubt.

I see your indifference.

I hear your worry.


I see your harshness.

I hear your breaking heart.

I see your cynical laugh.

I hear your trembling will.

I see your repulsive demeanour.

I hear your bleeding soul.

I see your egoist behaviour.

I hear your distressed mind. 

I see your selfishness; it’s all a front.


I hear and see the real you, my dear brother, sister, friend.

I sincerely do.




I thought I knew it all.

I always had the answers.

I won all the arguments.

I brought down my detractors.

I stood tall, the lord of the ring.

Then it all came tumbling down on me.

The veil was rent, and my nakedness revealed.

I was shocked and appalled at the flimsiness of my reasoning.

It finally dawned on me that I didn’t have it all together.

I didn’t know it all.




Please, relent, release me!

Forget me for a few minutes, that I may have the time to catch my breath.

I need time to lick my wounds.

You have been an implacable enemy, pushing, breaking, tearing, and ripping me to pieces.

I have reached my breaking point.

I am drunk with fatigue and pain.

I try getting back on my feet to no avail.

Oh, please, let go of me!

Let me at least get back on my knees that I may fight with dignity.

Oh life, life! Don’t be so mean, spirited.

You have rained blows after blows upon me.

Do let the sunshine of hope rise upon me.

I beseech you, life.




I am back!

The holiday is over.

I enjoyed it while it lasted.

I rested and allowed myself to let go.

Well, not really.

There were moments when I was tense, irritable, and on edge.

I tried to appear calm and relaxed despite the underlying pent up stress and fatigue.

I wanted to release these suppressed emotions, but I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to rock the boat.

We were on holiday.

We had all gathered together to have a good time.

There was a golden rule we all adhered to; no letting your emotions out.

No one uttered it, but everyone knew about it.

I am home now.

It is stifling hot, yet I fell refreshed.

I can now finally unwind,  and let my hair down.




A wisp of smoke, fading away.

A rose past its prime, wrinkled, wilted, falling apart.  

Dewdrops in the noonday heat, fragile, ephemeral.

Rays of the sun swallowed by the darkness.


Is this all I am?

Is that all we are?

Is this all there is?

Is that all life is?


We are here now.

They are with us now.

We see them no more.

They are suddenly gone.


Is this our only lot.

In this here journey called life?

It troubles me; this question eats me alive.

How I hope it is much more than this.




Was this all there was between us?

Was it all that fragile?

Was I mistaken?

Did I see it for more than what it was?

Was it a lie?

Did you deceive me?

Or did I fabulate, fabricate this whole reality?

I do wonder.

For you see, I thought I had gotten over you.

Oh my! How wrong I was.

For you see, the memory of us still makes my heart bleed.




She looked happy and excited.

She hid the turmoil within her.

She burned and churned with suppressed rage.

She was green with jealousy.

Envy corroded her bones.

It was hard for her to keep wearing the perfect mask.

She wore a sweet, contented smile as the storm raged within her.

She resented it.

She was exhausted and depleted emotionally.

She wanted to shed off the heavy cloak of pretence, that smothered her.

She wanted to be herself, the real deal.




A heap.

A mound.

A hill.

A mountain.


Where do I begin?

Where do I commence?

This task of decluttering.

How do I sort out this Everest that submerges me?


I fancy I can begin, little by little.

I can work it out from any angle.

I inch forward, a step at a time.

If I don’t give up along the way, I will reach the summit.





I tried to hide from your sharp, merciless flaming darts, dear sunshine, to no avail.

I longed to hug you, dear shade, I thought you were my haven; it was all wishful thinking.

I needed a hiding place where I would cool my wounded body.

You shunned and turned your back on me, dear shadow.

I cried out to you, dear refreshing breeze.

I yearned for your compassionate embrace.

You hid your face from me, lovely breeze.

I couldn’t find you, no matter how frantically I searched for you.

Oh dear me, I am melting and chocking from breathing this hot summer heat.




I gave it without a thought.

I gave it liberally.

I gave it willingly.

I gave it stupidly.


I didn’t take time to count the cost.

I didn’t weight the load.

I didn’t measure the depth of it.

I didn’t think much of it.


How I regret the words, I uttered.

But take it back, I cannot.

I am ashamed, but erase it all I can’t.

I must now eat my words.


Oh dear words, you gush forth easily, readily.

You plant yourself firmly and permanently.

You take a life of your own.

You take over my will.


Do you have total control over me?

Or am I using you as a scapegoat?

Have I refused to take responsibility for my acts?

I am the master of this craft I call my tongue.


Am I in control, or is that all hearsay?




You are fleeting.

You are fleeing.

You are floating away.


You are a precious commodity.

Dear money!

It’s a love-hate relationship between us.


When you are not around, I miss you.

I long for you.

I covet you.

I lust for you.


When you are in my embrace, I lose my cool.

Hoarding my dear money is my delight.

Yes, you are mine; I do not share you.

I never have enough of you.


I hold others at bay with precaution.

I am your sole owner.

Stashing my money is my most profound pleasure.

I cannot share you, my dear coin.


Oh no! what to do! My possession has possessed me.