TheFrozenPsyche

Written on Nov. 1 2016, Tuesday at 11:36 AM

I'm very sorry.

Please know that I’m not taking all of your heart for granted, I’m taking them all in, I live because of them, I still exist because you make me feel important  in spite of how I turned into someone who’s so difficult to love.

Thank you for not neglecting.

 I was born into this world, its land under my feet. I had always been walking, running, hopping, and gliding happily on it and with every single step I had always have a hand to guide me so I was never really afraid of falling. You all have given me all the fun, joy and the things that I probably don’t even deserve, you gave it all to me through the best of your capabilities; and with that, I truly feel  gratified.  But I did not grow up to be the kind of person you have pictured. It’s as if the bright future just suddenly darkened and dreams died.

 Just because I don’t trust myself enough that I’m able to walk, run, hop and glide ON MY OWN. I am emotionally, physically, mentally dependent to your love that whenever I try to let go, I start to fall and lose. I’m weak, easily disheartened.

 I fear not to be found.

 My anxious heart continues to fret of disappointing all of you further but as my chaotic mind venture further for a way out of my unreasonable fear, my route keeps on getting steeper and narrower; it’s suffocating.  It’s nobody’s fault, it’s mine; so as much as I can, I will try to crawl my way out of this obscurity, with my own hands.

 I know I’m asking too much but I don’t know how long it will take me but please give me time… until I’m no longer the reason why you frown. I’m certain that day will come.

She finally left her room. That day was far different from the usual course. She woke up rather early that she didn’t miss her mother preparing breakfast. She stood by her door whilst the lady of the house served a plate of sausages on the table. Finally, she turned to her with a vivid beam on her facade; a welcoming, gentle smile she remembered from her childhood.

A memory long gone.

“I cooked your favorite.” her elated voice, which was undoubtedly directed for her, cracked; which as if a sob was hidden underneath. But she never cooked the food she desires, she didn’t even eat morning meals with her. They even barely see each other and even talk for that matter. She was always in her room, doing every single responsibility her mother expected her to accomplish; at school, in her OWN life. She was born to make her overachiever mother proud.

“I’m sorry. All I wanted was the best for you. I didn’t know you were that tired.”

Her tears fell while every beat of her heart hit her chest like numerous daggers. The view of her mother’s wrinkled hands over the table, her fragile, shaken stance, the strands of white hair which proved age had already taken over her youth and the teardrops which collapsed on the surface of the counter. She realized the enormous guilt made from all of it. Her mother faced her once again, the woman’s eyes wet with flowing tears. She strided forward towards where her daughter stands and halted before the dresser. She observed her took a picture frame over the stand. It was then the woman’s sobs grew louder that her shoulder shudders from crying.

She was able to get a glimpse of the person smiling warily on the picture.

It was a beautiful portrait of her but a dreadful clandestine shrouds that pulchritudinous photograph. A wry smile curved on her lip and she moved her head to the direction of her right wrist. On it were slashes of bravery she had taken for years. And with the same wounded arm, she traced her neck with her hand; A severe laceration, the warmth of the rope that once was there. It was the badge of the last veracity that took hold of her.

It was too late to even absorb the hurt of her bawling mother.