suve

I wish I were a nicer person, eventhough I remember being a warm-hearted person when I was 5. I like to believe in my memory, unless someone says otherwise. I still have some moments of me being a nice person stored in a video tape that one could never find.

I often play this one moment that happened in 2007.

I was flapping my hands and making weird noises, trying my best to look like a bird. It was funny. My 5 year old classmates were laughing hard. Seeing them laugh made me do that thing again and again and again. They laughed until they realized it actually wasn't that funny.

I guess that was the definition of happiness for me at that time.

I see them, the murderers, everyday

They seem so nice,

They don't appear to be the dark souls with a mysterious aura as the writers describe

No one will ever believe that they murdered her

And we both knew it very well

She says they used to be her friends

Even though there were times when she felt almost dead around them

She says she's jealous of me, because,

She says she knows that my friends won't kill me

You may ask why does she haunt me, instead of the people who killed her

What do I have to do with this?

Maybe she knows,

She knows my secret

She knows,

It's probably cause I'm singing about you

Been trying to find the words to say

But they're just another thing I seem to lose

I see myself standing at the same place as yesterday;

The worn-out clothes, untied hair, closed curtains, nothing has changed

Not even the muted tv that keeps on replaying this clip of a person screaming.

I am not sure why I find this more disturbing.

Is it because of the repetition of the clip?

Or is it because of the muted screams?

Or is it because of my inability change this situation despite having the control in my hands?

There's no way to escape from this absurd nightmare

I just have to wait until the sunrise...

And it bothers me in so many ways that you are not even aware of

It frustrates me the times when you joke about it,

When we both know you are being broken down by all this chaos

Is it my fault that I keep hearing your silent screams?

Should I blame myself for not knowing how to protect you from those heart piercing arrows of hurt?

Or should I blame you for attracting these arrows of unknown hurt?

Are you looking at me?

Look at this insensitive mess I've become!

"How was I to know?

It's a crazy thing

I showed you my hand

And you still let me win

And Who was I to say

That this was meant to be?

The road that was broken

Brought us together"