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“Shut up and listen! Stop interrupting me!” She shouted at the child.

She was livid. Her nostrils flared and deflated like a skirt on a windy day.

Her bloodshot eyes painted a fiery tapestry.

Her eyes shot flaming darts at her object of scorn.

The young child bent over his toys.

He pretended to be oblivious of the rantings and ravings of his mother.

He was used to it.

He continued to build his Lego house; he wanted to see how long it would last this time around.

He silently started the countdown, one, two, three, four.

At the count of three, she stopped shouting, looked at him, and apologized before leaving the room.

 

 

Grovelling.

Toiling.

Yearning.

Am I still hoping?

 

I almost had it.

I once had it.

I might have it.

Will I have it?

 

Thus goes the flow of life.

My life.

My existence seems wasted.

My soul is withering in this barren desert, devoid of hope.

 

I am now just a dried out discarded husk.

I am too old for this profession.

I don’t have enough work experience for that job offer.

I have too many diplomas for this job.

 

Where, oh, where is my place?

Where is my niche, my sweet spot?

Where is my slot?

Where can I cast my anchor?

 

How long will I drift in this barren, cold, cruel, tundra, the wilderness of joblessness?

Please do tell me when this torture ends!

 

 

I am trapped, get me out!

I am stuck, pull me out!

I am drowning, hold me tight!

I am falling, don’t let go of my hand!

Help! Oh, help me!

Throw me a lifeline.

Be my buoy, and save this perishing soul.

 

 

I feel so ugly now.

I feel so-so.

I don’t even know how to name this yucky feeling.

These emotions suck me into the dark abyss of depression.

I am wrong.

I was wronged.

I have wronged.

 

 

I open my mouth to share the pearls of wisdom I think I possess.

Once these sly, mischievous words have flown out of my mouth,

I realize the extent of my folly.

I don’t know it all.

I don’t have all the answers.

So who am I to stand as judge and sage?

 

 

The beauty of the horizon transfixes my eyes.

I am now blind to what is right before me.

The distant mirage beckons me.

I miss out on the beautiful reality of my mundane “here now.”

 

 

Your words stung.

They planted their sharp darts deep in the tender folds of my heart.

It wasn’t your intention.

Yet the result remains the same.

My heart is sore and swollen tender.

The wound is hard to erase.

So, please kindly weight your words.

Do not dish them out carelessly.

For many a time, you have knocked me down with your utterances.

You have left me cringing and groaning on the hard floor of “insensitive statements.”

 

 

Validate me.

See me, hear me, let me know I exist.

What I say is essential, because I matter.

Validate me, approve of me.

I need your approbation; it is the guarantee that I am someone special.

My social status and my title are the gauges of my importance.

Please validate me, substantiate my claims; if you don’t, then I cease to live.

So, do bear with me.

I am loud, aggressive, and abrasive.

It may be because I need an affirmation from you.

Your mission is to authenticate me.

So, please validate me. 

Your words do reassure me.

 

 

Today you threw me away.

You were cordial and friendly.

We made small talk.

Everything appeared normal, on the surface.

Our seemingly deep level of amity would touch a bystander watching us. 

You tossed me aside.

You were so subtle, so gentle, so stealth in doing it that I almost missed it.

My gut feeling told me to wake up and be alert, for you were discarding me.

I am dead weight to you now.

“Nothing” is the only commodity I seem to bestow upon you.

Oh, why did you forget the wealth of memories we shared?

You still want me to leave?

OK, I vacate the premises of this place called “friendship.”

I will not hold you back any more.

Goodbye, I will weight you down no more.

 

 

I know you don’t like the status quo.

I know you don’t like the way things are right now.

I drive you crazy.

I make you mad.

I push you to your limits.

I make your blood boil.

So don’t act all cool, calm, and collected.

Let it all out on me as raw as it is.

Keep it real with me, that I may know my limits.

If you aren’t sincere with me, I drift, tossed about in the stormy sea of life.

I am in a state of limbo, and it frightens me.

So, if you do care for me, be real.

Please do, for no indifference is allowed here! 

 

 

She stood still.

She was an island in the ocean of people around her.

She was a deserted island in this hustling and bustling sea of humanity.

I looked at her.

She held my gaze and a smile lifted off the veil of sadness from her eyes.

Her smile slowly faded away like the lifeless petals of a wilted rose.

I wanted to reach out and help her.

I felt wretched, for I knew not how to meet her need.

 

 

There is a sadness that never says its name.

It is a faithful companion that sticks closer than a brother.

When the curtain falls and everyone leaves, this heaviness never deserts me.

It is a heavy cloak that envelopes me in anonymity.

It is a weighty mantle that sometimes threatens to choke the life out of me.

 

 

Oh, goodness me!

I woke up this morning from the wrong side of the bed.

I can’t recall which side it was.

All I know is that it has left me cranky and edgy.

Keep off my path!

Keep clear of me!

Give me time to put myself together again.

I don’t want to lash out blindly any more.

I have caused enough casualties.

So, when you see my countenance clothed with a heavy veil of “bad mood”: do understand me, please.

I got up from the wrong side of the bed!

There is a problem, though.

Can you tell me which is the right side?

For you see, I can’t seem to find it no matter how hard I look!

 

 

Nothing!

They didn’t find anything.

I hoped they would find something.

They found nothing.

 

I stand at a crossroad torn apart.

 

What will be my next move?

Will I stand still, petrified?

Will I move forward, terrified?

Will I look backward, mortified?

 

I wait for everything to unfold.

 

I take one step after the other, unhurried.

I face each obstacle as it comes, unwavering.

I walk each road with its twists and turns, unworried.

I glean the lessons from my past, unthreatening.

 

I enjoy the journey, inhabiting each moment as it unravels before me. 

 

 

Help! I am stuck in a rut.

I am lost.

I can’t find my way out of this labyrinth of “people-pleasing.”

I always need to be validated.

It is so tiring, wandering in this desolate desert of “approval addiction.”

I want out!

I have partaken of this meal for so long that I know not how to escape.

 

 

She took a deep breath.

She breathed in and out slowly.

She gently stretched her tense body, in a bid to coax and calm her nervous heart. 

She allowed her knuckles to loosen the iron grip they had on the phone.

She encouraged her terrified heart.

She cleared her throat and plunged ahead.

She said everything she needed to say.

 

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the phone.

She willed herself to keep calm no matter how the conversation turned out to be. 

The phone call was brief.

She could tell by the curt and sharp response that he was distraught.

She clenched her fist in a bid to control the rage that was welling within her.

When he finished spewing his venom, he hung up the phone. 

His words echoed in her mind, lacerating and tearing her heart 

apart.

 

She gingerly put down her phone on the kitchen table.

She shook like flag on a windy day; her emotions were roiling and boiling.

She wrestled with the negative thoughts that were trying to take over her mind.

She refused to allow his hurtful words to take over her mind.

She was free at last; she had put an end to the toxic relationship.

She allowed herself to soak in the beauty of the moment. 

She released herself to relax as she deflated like a broken balloon. 

 

 

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.