#mal.scribbles

so i asked to god, why am i so awful? how is it that i am yet another one of your followers but everything detestable is so imbued within me? even from the way i behave to the way i disguise excitement into things that aren't good, why is it all so ugly?

i tell him, why have you made me so ugly?

i beg him, help me.

i cry to him hoping another tear on the velvet carpet of prayer will make me a better person, they will advert me from hurting the people i love, and they will speak to me and tell me that it's hurting me because i care.

but is it that way? god has kept me so deluded that i do not know whether the hurt i feel is a blessing or a curse, or a saccharine pain of all the love i haven't emancipated.

maybe its little seashells that get lost in the tides of waves, or maybe its the little reminders my sister left all around her remainings, or maybe its the equation i could not solve, or maybe its the pressure, the words, the force of something invisible that pushes me to adapt to the world, that kicks me and throws me till i'm barely scraping the floor, but still going forward.

i don't know if that's a blessing or a curse, or if that's how you realize that the world goes on with or without your consent.

so i ask him again, i tell him under my tear-stricken, abhorrent voice, why have you made me so ugly?

i beg him, help me, help me, help me.

but screaming "help me" in bold letters at your wall does not help me.

i wonder when my brain will begin filtering out things i know about you and file them in the deep archives of my memory. maybe i will know about you less each day, or maybe one day i will know nothing about you at all. maybe one day, you will be an enigma of my imagination, maybe i will keep running and running; so, so far away that my nails will accompany the many blisters on my skin and the sole of my feet will ache amidst the sea of deserts- burning coals under my feet.

maybe my utter cowardice will cost me a lot one day, maybe the inability to properly express myself to you bound me in hooves i can never escape from, maybe i will try and try and try harder each time to renovate myself into someone you would've been comfortable with. but you, we both know, that no matter how much we improve ourselves anymore, we're not together anymore.

maybe, i, with my own efforts, will turn you into a stranger, into a nostalgia of home, a feeling of solace besidea warm hearth i know was as temporary as split second.

so i say once again, into the abyss where words mean nothing and mine will never float among the walls- maybe you're someone more special to me than i knew of, but you will never know that. neither will i.