Can It Just Stop.

It's just so difficult to allow such a rare (positive) spark enter my head, yet I loathe how the people around me play the heaviest role in pulling me back into darkness. It doesn't matter anymore whether they are conscious or unconscious about their intentions, today's the day where I step back into a space. A space which doesn't hesitates to mute the voices from outside. Access is temporarily or permanently? Fate shall decide.

Let's not hide or deny anymore & lay things straight, I'm furiously writing about my eating disorder again. Yes, furiously is the word. To start off, I'll first ask the questions you need answered, - "What happened? Why are you bringing this up again? Aren't you getting better?" Trust me, I feel the confusion too. Since the last time I wrote about this issue, it was a post worth writing to let out my inner gloom. By a scarce grasp of willingness to fight off the demons as describe on the first line, I forced myself to eat, bite, chew like a normal kid. Joy & long lost excitement got to me again. College life seems like a story I'd find interestingly fun to live in. Could say I actually forgot about being the kid who contemplate about food, fat & calories every single second my heart beats. Dear anorexics & bulimics out there, I'm sure you'd understand how rare it is to have propitious moments like this.

Until it all ended today.

After environmental studies class today, I strolled my way to Subway nearby to grab a few White Chocolate Macadamia cookies before my ride home arrived. I carelessly chomped my way during a 20 minute wait, then tagged along my family to a Malaysian cafe for tea-time before heading home. Just stating, the tea-time with them was unplanned so I was stuffed after that. About two & a half hours later, we had homemade pasta with cream for dinner. During that time, my tummy wasn't feeling well from all the cookies & (unhealthy) snacks I ate in the evening, plus I was still glutted. With such valid reasons, I told my parents that I'll have a smaller portion of pasta instead of the full plate they served me. Out of nowhere, my mom shot the bullets at me saying I'd be the person to blame if we don't have tea-time sessions or her cooking dinner again etc. Basically she was forcing me to eat up everything on my plate so she doesn't crack her voice again. 

Without a choice, I oblige myself to scoop up spoonfuls & swallow every bit of food while my tummy terribly hurts. What hit me at first wasn't being sick or dealing with something people around me don't, but the horribly wrong informal education my parents enforced on me. I don't know how to elaborate what they said more & all the hurtful thoughts swirling through my head, but they just don't know that they are the ones killing me with an invisible dagger, pushing me off balance after each time I struggle to stand. At that intense moment, all I could think was 'shit I have to purge later', 'gosh I don't think my body can stand this', 'fuck it I'm gonna relapse', 'why are my parents doing this to me'. It just appears to be so unfair to the point I'd done mostly everything to save myself, but they relentlessly do the exact opposite to screw me up. How can one's parents don't give a shit about their kid dealing with a fatal disorder after their kid actually confronting them, and instead speak as if they want the kid to feel the worst? You tell me.

I just really want to stop eating & burn this issue into permanent ashes. Alanis xx.

Unknot My Head

You know what's tremendously hard for me? I'm talking about something that constantly bothers me in a way that steals the healing pill away. Not asking for it, but people barely understand.

It's what you're looking at right now. This blog, its content, these words.

I'm not sure about how much people around me know, but I don't want them to. Yet I write pessimistic shit on a public site expecting people not to discover. At the same time, I need alive ones to look at it, balancing the equation of expressing & listening. It's confusingly complicated, I know. Now the intention of this read is to explain to you what's so frustratingly tough, something I can never overcome. I regret creating a two-sided reflection of myself. Chose to hide my horrible imperfections & tried so hard to impress for a life. After all these years, I could say, I succeeded? People would refer me as the tough little daredevil who does crap she like. Yet inside, I contain so many untold secrets that once I expose, people won't believe me, because of what I reflected in the past years. And that's what scares me, when I now found realisation & want to save myself. Wanting to express myself through words & all, but can't seem to do it with an unknotted heart. For so many reasons, two being destroying all the long-built impression & letting down humans who somehow look up to me.

I just can't do it without shutting both eyes.

How could I feel comfortable publicly writing on my blog that I'm struggling with disorders, knowing my juniors could see them yet I need an understanding audience outside my world? How could I possibly express my terribly low-leveled self-love without people lowering their expectations from me? I'm that senior who sits down & listens to another person's problems, later helping them overcome their issues & giving them warmth; because I'm good at helping from experience. I know there are millions of souls out there like me, struggling to grab a lifebuoy in the middle of darkness without turning the lights on. But it's just so difficult as I already projected a crumpled image of myself. I'm not as strong as I look, instead I suffer from crap only very insecure humans cry from. I care so much about judgements I shouldn't care about, causing me to overthink anything and everything. I'm that sensitive, and it's just worse when people don't know.

People ask me whether I'm gay or bi although I'm just a straight tomboy. And it deeply scratches the sensitivity in me. Speaking about being a tomboy, people rarely lend us the warmth, because we look like we don't need as much love as girly girls do. Can you imagine a tomboy wrestling with anorexia & bulimia? A tomboy who has depression & harms herself? Probably nope, as we look like we don't give a fuck about insecurities, don't we. Adds up on how it's harder for me to open up compared to girly girls, how hard it is to be accepted into society. I remember the first time I told a friend I trust about my condition, she just couldn't believe it & thinks I'm kidding. Another thinks I'm searching for attention. All because I don't look like a weakling who would force herself to throw up dinner every night, cry herself to sleep & tattoo her arm with a blade.


I'm only a tomboy with a scar & so much you don't know.

241 Days Later

Yup, the scar's still present on my left wrist, only without the spilling blood.

You might remember one remarkable blog post I wrote few months ago as I definitely do. Specifically 241 days ago, I was drowned with dark thoughts in my classroom, wanting to kill myself. And I did try, the blade sunk deep slicing peach flesh, revealing a greenish blue vein inside me. All was remembered well as it was a day that changed me lots. The self-granted drug I sniffed was strong enough to made me let go, to take my first step of freeing myself. I was pissed from slashing that cut, it left me a scar which would stay for eternity. More pissed that ever, people who are fated to care didn't fucking noticed my near death. I constantly ask myself, why should I care when they don't? Obviously it's a stupid question where I should care for them although they don't show the same, but I couldn't stand it anymore - the quarrelling, misunderstandings, unreasonable finger pointing, so much unfair prejudice that once & still holds one of the reasons of why I urged to jump off the 6th floor. 

It's not much, but it's more than enough.

Alright lets take away the point where such 'caring' people didn't seem to help mend me at all, but they don't just leave me drowning, they unfix me. Meaning they fucking screw things to the worse extent I rather disappear from their sight. Rude for me to say such words, but try standing in my shoes, what would you do? Trembling arms not even close to seeking self-help, I'm forced to swim in my scrambled thoughts day by day while staring at mental abusers. I finally opened up to my condition that I needed assistance, yet you restrict me from a lending hand outside of home. Does my situation makes it justifiable to say I feel totally helpless? Because that's what I feel every single day, stuck in my room trying to make things right, at least better. As someone who prefers hiding my own issues from the blissful smiles around me, it feels horrible opening up that I'm not okay, but I understand that I have to, yet what I obtained in return is embarrassment, regret & dreadful taunts.

Hate to say this so much, but I know I'm relapsing & my will's against from fighting it away. For the past few months I try so hard to think positive for real, get blades out of my sight, forgive & forget and so on. I pushed Ana away & gained my pounds back, I placed Harry's invisible cloak on Mia & it has been months since I purged. But the experienced ones knows that once they get to you, they never leave. My saviour Onision slapped it on our face that after all we can do, the only way to solve it is to seek for professional help, which is the one thing I couldn't attain from where I stand. Thanks to him, I officially brought cutting to a halt & I truly hope I don't relapse from cutting again. It was a tough journey, but I managed to loosen my fingers. As for that one senior who made the deal (read old post here), go fuck yourself. I hung onto the deal for your sake, yet you continue to smoke then & now. Could say it ain't surprising you broke the deal by looking at your doubtful face!

I'm writing this out of pain because I have nowhere else to exert my worries, and I apologise if this post didn't make your day brighter. After all, I began to blog as it's my one & only place to write who I am despite the acceptance of others. Hey, doesn't this prove that no one's living a perfect life as what it seems on screen? Just telling you I'm as ordinary as you are, maybe even a little broken inside.

Remember it's just a bad day, not a bad life.

Have a great one, Alanis xx.

Onision Saved My Life

It's midnight, I'm watching Onision's videos regarding self-harm & suicidal thoughts for psychological needs (to balance out my mind) and I felt this strange feeling of not knowing what's my next step to proceed. What can I do to continue fixing myself piece by piece, getting stronger day by day? My current answer's I don't know, not because I fell into my own hole again, but I don't seem to get a glance of chance of me getting help. Not on me this time.

To credit the someone whom really snapped me out of my near-death misery, I would say the person's Onision (aka Gregory Jackson). He's a YouTuber able to be considered as my favourite, makes straight up honest videos without a single fuck given, and speaks by experience. Scrolling back in time, I was severely depressed for numerous reasons - unfitting environment, moronic friendships, parents who find me unacceptable, eating disorders and more. Soon after months of terrible productivity, I took up a habit of blades & blood. Frankly, friends who noticed said words which never helped, instead unintentionally dug me a deeper hole. As I was always hooked up with YouTube during unsleepable nights & free time, the search bar I clicked then typed 'suicidal thoughts'. Onision popped out. And that's when I was given the first ever help.

It may sound crazy or insane to you guys about how obsessed I am to YouTube to even gain therapy from a social website. Well here's the thing, I have nowhere to go. My parents (sorry to say), they really don't give a single fuck about my mental health. I tried to hint them, instead they told me depression's shit & would never kill me & it's bullshit & I'm just trying to make my parents have pity on me and some other crap (including disowning me). Trust me, there's no other way my parents could play aid in my situation, one more step they come & I'd probably pull the trigger. Friends, not exactly a positive outcome for me either (I didn't really approached, I just distant myself). Some adults I know either advice me too much on irrelevant facts which irritates or they don't give a shit at all. Thus, this all leads to myself. I can't afford therapy sessions without my parents knowing, school counselling seems like the worst decision I could had went for, there're basically nothing I can call out for without my parents understanding. Now you see the light of why YouTube means so much to me.

Back to topic, I was watching his videos in autoplay rolling continuously, most are the same ones I used to watch last time when I was in an unstable state. One of the best attainment was that his one video made me stop cutting instantaneously (scars scars scars). The inspiration was always there, but the effect reduced itself. Here's my current situation; I'm swimming after I'd recover from drowning, but in a pool without ladders. I broke the wobbly position I stood, but now I'm stuck without a guiding light. I desperately need someone to talk to, a therapist for example, to get me running again. From replaying videos from YouTubers such as Hannah Hart & Onision, it's wonderful to know how they regain themselves from obtaining therapy help & becoming who they are today. And I don't ask for much, but just a helping hand I could grab on, someone I could express the grey side of me. People who know me would picture me as someone who laughs & smiles all the time even at 'lame' situations, that's the image I desire to portrait to the people around me. However, equilibrium flips itself 180° after only exposing one side of oneself. That's what getting me, watching amazing people go through a similar past as my current time by accepting who they are & getting help, but I don't own the opportunity to feel better. I suppose it's eligible for me to say it's unfair.

That's all I urge to write out from heart as my comments & feelings after rewatching numerous of Onision's life-saving videos. He really is amazing (p.s. we share the same birthday). Greg, if you're reading this, hope you get the thank you message & if you could do so, write or sound back as it would help so much.


Have a great weekend, Alanis xx.

Not Okay

Ignore this post if you're expecting an euphoric chapter of my story. Apologies for killing your assumption.

If you're going to ask me how I'm doing, here's a frank answer - I'm not okay. To shut my mouth is what I really want right now, but this enormous urge of mine to erupt my hiding heartache is overpowering my wanting. I don't want to brag neither complain about my shit that cause joyful humans to lose their smile & tear up, so please leave my blog for a second. Like I said, I created this blog also for my own necessity, it acts as my emotion's major egress, aka I'm spilling crap so I could at least breathe better. So for the sake of everybody's mood, delete this tab & go for a walk. Don't want to spoil the day of yours.

Alright, just me here right? Time to reveal the skeleton in the closet (I swear this is hard). I recently relapsed, and it was pretty much in awful shape. The reasons I chose to not tell, but it tumbled me back to day one. Mia befriended I, and I could sense Ana spending a visit soon. Like, really? Even my conscious mind had a clear vision that I was over them. All the gym commitment being frittered away? Gosh it's drowning me. I'm exceedingly tired of whining my crap to the peeps around me, plus to be honest, the feedback I receive sometimes are not the ones I hope to hear. So here I am, writing to chill myself as I have nowhere to punch a hole. Especially when you meet bummers who say such humans just whine for awareness. If you're one of them, go to hell.

Losing 4.5 pounds in 2 days doesn't seem so bad. Let it continue for a month or so, and I'll hit the point below the line. Half of my sense compellingly disagrees with such occurrence, yet the other half unconsciously clicks. If you understand how this bull works, you could probably relate the helpless state I currently float in. What hurts more to know is the response I got from my parents. I don't even bother to find aid anymore after hearing what they spat at me. It's just, stuff that you could never expect blabbering out from your guardians.

"You better not have it (depression). If you do, just leave the fam." There she said it, words that could never be erased. How does the world assume that I could obtain a real helping hand when my nearest & dearest lives fail miserably to accept who am I, or what I've become? Don't even get started with the source. There you guessed it, a source whom couldn't accept its doings. Out of the random, listening to Kodaline's High Hopes while gently spamming the keyboard annihilates my inner being so bad. Yes, grasp onto them high hopes, hopes with insights blurred. Hopes to stop the beeping monitor.

You're still here? What the heck. Just listen & grant me peace aites. I'm just gonna end it here before I continue to ruin your day with gloom. Nights.

Chalice of Air

Imagine being in a state
Unable to feel anything
Rage, sorrow, glee, love
As if emotions never existed in life.

Since the last few hectic months, I've been feeling awfully weird. To describe weird, I don't know how to. Emotions that used to bother me hastily stopped running its track, but trashing me in another worse way my inner army was never prepared for. I feel impossible to deliver what I perceive in heart into expressions. With a harsh saying, I couldn't even feel emotions normally anymore. I'm feeling empty inside.

Of all the different emotions that a person can have, empty is one of the most uncomfortable. To feel empty is to feel incomplete. It’s a feeling of something absent or missing inside of you, of being different, set apart, alone, lacking, numb. To someone who seems strong on the outside, yes it's a very scary experience. With that tigress cover I own, emptiness locked a laugh on my expressions when I'm sobbing deep inside. No matter how much I need to cry in order for me to explode my impurities, to balance my mind, it just won't happen.

A week ago, I attended an informal conference I was looking forward to. Not because of anything special, but I crave to spill the thoughts I long balled in heart. It was something really necessary to spill as it was a similar problem that changed me 3 years ago, unfortunately it's seems to be happening again. My past mistake years ago was that I never managed to say things out, which caused no one to understand my doings since then. I promised myself that I got to face a breakdown if it was needed, because trust me, I really really craved to get my thoughts splattered once and for all, to get rid of that stone in my heart.

But what happened? I didn't say it. I just couldn't do it in the manner I covet.

Worse is that a friend of mine stood up & fought justice for me, resulting her the lost of a dear friend. Blame's all on me, inducing this problematic I to endure another downhill of messed up sentiment. Of course I expressed her my deepest gratitude with a touch of gravitational guilt, but in the hub, how bleak I would want time to rewind itself so I could stop her from disclosing my moderately-confidential matter in a way I didn't favor. Chiefly, she made me felt remorseful with all the crumpled thoughts in my head, as if I wasn't bearing enough shots before that unwelcomed happening.

Instead of hoping my glass will soon be filled up with sanity, I pray that my glass doesn't possess a crack at its bottom, leaking away efforts of blood.

Alanis xx.

Unpredictable shut downs of lucidity really kills.

(I actually ended this painful write early as I'm starting to sink into vacuity again. Apologies.)

Cfn 2015

Here's a scene of the event's BOD.

Qianrou - 4 years Cfn buddy. <3

I actually don't know what to start off with. To be honest, satisfaction isn't even included in it.


Screw the plot I'm not even in the mood to list out the stuff I went through in details, but it was a heck of awfully grey clouds I once threw in my letter of departure just to not let myself collide into that sight again. Imagine something I would die just so I wouldn't need to witness it happen in front of my empty eyes again. And it's heart-tearing to say this, but yes, it's happening again. The crap I used to cry in bed every single night as I didn't stand a chance to be in control of things, it's reliving history with a whole new level.

Now it sucks even more as my blog can't act as my smoke vent anymore as it's invaded with humans who shouldn't be knowing all the shit that's mashing up my life. Obvious enough, I'm not really in a role where I could explode whenever I feel like to or wherever I want to. My depression set to drain my thoughts in the morning hours only worsen things at the most incorrect time. It sawed me open in gory when the person whom stands on the fitting capability that offered real help became the main source of this repeating tornado. Admitting my current vulnerability, I cried nights & currently do so as I don't see a math equation that's able to fix this soul-fracturing drawback.

What's so dolorous that made words unfindable to express my unseeable tears? How can I even unleash the truth when the people around me also play a character of cause? How can I explain my dignity shattered into fine sand, mental persistence no longer hanging on the edgy cliff when there's not even one there with all ears in? Maybe I really am so odious I shouldn't be surprised seeing no shadows nearby to listen, maybe I'm just an idiot suffering with severe depression who can't face the mirror to obtain real help & instead lie dead on my desk every single day, smile so I could inspire people who look up to me, laugh like Mad Hatter so people think I'm okay. The strong cover I used to hold with feeble grips will soon be blustered off by the hurricane of realisation, it only matters on time.

To the man whom I once believed you could lend me an opaque helping grasp, I thought you knew what it feels like being in my shoes. I thought you knew how painful it is to witness out-of-control happenings slapping your face repeatedly with no mercy. Yet you're throwing such a scene straight into my eyes, like reflecting sunlight directly onto a Vampire's face. I don't what else to say, but thanks for breaking me till the point I am today. I probably seem as if I don't need support as I appear to have this lionheart-cover on me with my boycut & stained army tag, but you're furiously hitting the wrong keys this time. Overpolishing the sensitivity of another person for the reason she's not as strong as me only ships things closer to the iceberg of Titanic.

I'm sorry for being such a weakling, if that's what you crave to hear.

The Wonderland of Mine

"Good Night, daddy. See you tomorrow." I spoke with a soft voice towards my marble door, watching daddy's shadow disappear.

Hmm, a day spent well at cozy home, I though. Basic freedom, breezy sunlight, a kitchen to mess up with my still-in-practice culinary skills. Although it's a little sad being alone, at least I could be myself. Doesn't it feel extremely comfortable being so? Even though if I'm put through tough conditions, or even death, at least it's the real me on my cover. And that's all I ask for, a space to be myself.

Soon before I realised, my exhausted mind dozed off with my midnight thoughts as its lullaby. Across this dot, my souls has traveled into another dimension which its existence unknown. Only I can figure out the answer, but without an answer to search for. Confusing, ain't it? Well, people call them "dreams" or so. If I doesn't make you grin, then "nightmare"is its name. As what I prefer it to be named, "Wonderland". Inspired by Lewis Carroll. Finally, it sounds fair and mystical, good and bad combined into such a wonderful term. But the wonderland of mine ain't worth a smile at all.

"Tick-tock-tick-tock-ringggg....." a familiar sound woke my soul lying in another girl's body. As what it felt I was programmed to perform, I stood up and proceed to clean myself and get dressed. The first image that gave me a shiver was my uniform, hinting me that I was heading to an accident. Oatmeal for breakfast later, I sat my dad's car to what I call "Institution of Hell", as it was the only venue I was permanently coded to be someone else.

First step over hell's boundary, I could already feel the thickness of the air that caused me ill. The people around me, friends, rivals, unknowns, all made me felt lifeless in seconds. The inner me walked with an old man's stick while my cover seemed totally alright. Feared for conversations, I forced myself to sleep in the room I was ordered to be in. Oh, my internal soul, I meant. From the exposed, I looked like I was daydreaming through the rusted walls. Not even half a day was history yet.

During the break which I preferred as "Torture of Crowds", my coded self went to greet humans I envy. The hatred towards myself grew as there was no one else to blame except for me. Fortunately, I had control to get myself food so I could much my bites at a snail pace to prevent involving myself into any kind of chatter. My inner self teared up at this point, dying to wake up from this terrifying wonderland. Of course, a classical pinch stopped working since year 1865.

Back in our miserable boxes of erudition, my stopwatch was the one and only sight my eyes locked on. My traumatic brain calculated time to rain a drop of hope for my internal soul. Humans walk, run by my opaque body as if I wasn't an existence. Ignorance never tried itself as I guessed its outcome of waving hello. Sprawling on my dusty desk like a corpse left floating on the ocean, I ponder about why was this nightmare-ish wonderland fated on me, why wouldn't it accept a twist and just let myself be free for once. My rage grew but coding did its working numbing my unapparent feelings.

"Dear sun, you can rise anytime now." I begged in thoughts.

After what it felt like days, my real daddy snapped me out from a land I would die to never return. He informed me to get ready for a picnic by nine. I questioned him about school as the day's mad Monday, he answered, "Silly, yesterday was just Friday! Are you that eager for school, Alanis?"

And the cycle goes on.

Was that even a dream?

Infatuated in Frail

Already self-minded, dreaming to execute tasks single-handed all the way, barely possible to endure other people's alterable imperfections, yup that's me. Go on, point those fingers, I won't object. At least I'm clear of my own traits, and never thought about twisting them three hundred sixty, a little amend is alright though. It's just that it keep's fucking up my logic in social every single day.

When I was still a kid who volunteered & gave truthful opinions from pure heart, people loathe me. For my dictatorial characteristic, my straight judgements. But deep down inside, all I wanted was to help out, to make things better, to strive for victory. With the tiny flaws I see, my itchy fingers can't help but to snap things right without taking its smooth turn. I have my ways of picking out people's dents & marks, harsh I would say, but there wasn't a chance it never soaked into their ears. To be exact, my way of correction works, but it was often misconstrue. Tired of it happening developed my permanent silence & hidden blames.

The day two days ago displayed my death in persuasion. Despite it's a function I head, I lost my rock-like viewpoint. I gave in, loosely allowing people trampling over choices I should make. Not a surprise, my once stubborn correct-all-fault trait was indelibly numbed by the past happenings. My inner self was going wildfire, but I couldn't voice out at all. Probably because I couldn't manage its side effects I'll earn later on. Frail heart I own, damn I hate myself.

Wake me up before I do something immutable, please.

An Unforeseen Attempt

(Warning: Contains graphic that some may find triggering & disturbing.)

Around a week ago, a punishing covenant was made between my senior & I. One of its chapters is I need to stop cutting instantaneously which is scarcely possible. But I forcefully stroll along with it as the other side of the deal was something he must achieve for his own sake. I really want him to do so.

Well, everything went smooth until yesterday. It went psychotic, or should I say, wrong.

Before history lesson started, I was feeling ill, not physically but mentally. After not cutting myself for days, I'm losing it pretty badly. My primary output of poor feelings taken away from me in a sudden wasn't a helpful doing at all. As expected, I broke down on my desk with my favourite sweater blanketed my upper body, hiding away my fragility. It was pointless, sniffing my puffy nose & drowning my cheeks with tears for minutes, staring aimlessly at the scribblings on the desk. My mind was soon pervaded with half-baked thoughts while my common sense faded away. At that moment, it is powerfully proven to me that cutting was my drug. Like cigarettes & heroin, it's impossible to draw this inimical addiction to a halt in seconds. My head rolled around, attempting to free myself from this absurd crack-up. Tears just wouldn't stop travelling pass my dejected face no matter how hard I try to picture happy thoughts.

The collapse paused for a moment when my history teacher entered the class. After vigorously wiping my stained face with my sleeves, I laid on my desk as if I were dead, or waiting for it to happen. My sense shuffled thoughts around, playing its role as a distraction. Out of the blue, it landed on my suicidal thoughts real hard. Images of my pictured death flood my mind projector as if it's encouraging me to end this once and for all. Tempted to do so, I grabbed my blade from my bag and gently placed it onto my left wrist. For a minute I knew I wasn't going to execute my temporary vision because of the agreement I promised with the senior whom I trust. My urge for him to change is so enormous I held onto the blade tight. Another reason was because I wasn't daring enough to do it. I kept thinking about the luckless person who finds my body, the regrets I know I can never take.

Suddenly my previous thought shook me a little. I said I wasn't daring enough? How's that so? It's like saying "Alanis, you're admitting you're a COWARD. You're a WEAKLING who can't stand pain of just cuts of a tiny blade? What's wrong with you? Aren't you tired of losing to others? Then do something! Prove that you own no fear!"

That did the job.

Unintentionally after the voice in my head pronounced its last word, my right hand held the blade up & in a blink, it slashed across the wrist of my left arm. Not knowing what I did was actually divergent than the past cuts, I turned my head back and stared at my wounded arm.

And oh god, I actually did it. Very deep.

Just days after the words.

In shock, I stoned while observing the wound unseal widely. The vein can be seen as it's exposed to air around us. In an instance, blood began to flow tremendously fast out of my gaping cut. At that moment, accomplishment was my biggest triumph while hysteria grew second in me. It woke me up making me realise I'm actually in class, wrist spilling out gory red, seating at the most front row, teacher only few steps away. With no choice, I had to stop the bleeding or else I would had died in school, making a bloody scene out of nowhere. Argh so close.

Half an hour later, I managed to calm myself down as I already swallowed my drug deep enough. I kept thinking, "Woah, I actually done that, I actually own the guts, holy crap that was deranged." The cut was so severe it needed stitches (I didn't go get them though). But at the same time, I sort of broke the agreement between my senior & I. Hmm talking about terms I actually didn't, because I only agreed on not cutting, but what I did was to commit suicide. So yup, it's different I suppose.

So deep it hurts to the extend I can't play my buddy here ;(

"Addiction isn't about using drugs, it's about what the drug does to your life."

Addiction in Rain

It all began two years ago
An incident happened that made blood unflow
My heart pierced by a deathly arrow
That's when I started to suicide in slow

A penny I paid for a rusty blade
For the action prepared to tame my own hate
With no second thoughts a cut unfold red
A moment none believed but it's when I met my mate

Soon enough my nerves lost its pain
As this has became my addiction in rain
It covers depression inside that's inhumane
As long as blood drips, my mind shall be sane.

Hope this will be my last cut. #fingerscrossed

- Inspired to write before I really try to quit this addiction. Wish me luck. -

Summer, the Husky

A day I would say sunny
I met a little Husky
He acted cute and funny
In a blink, we became buddies

I named him little Summer
It was when I met this hugger
No matter how cold was winter
He never fails to make me warmer

Who cares I own no friend
But a companion that allows a two-man-band
Summer rarely hides in his den
Whatever I do, he's my biggest fan

"Hey Summer, let's go out to play!"
The line I excitedly say everyday
I wonder why they couldn't see us bray
My parents say he's just my imaginative stray

Summer, Summer, please don't leave me soon
You kept me sane like Earth and Moon
Without you, my heart would lose its glee
So get me a husky, Summer it shall be.

Summer in the Autumn.

 - Inspired by my dream of having Summer -

My Tiny Mate

I was delighted once
Until my school mates grunt
They judge on what they hunt
Words I heard ain't so fun

Soon depression hit my head
Isolated myself as I'm dead
Luckily I met my mate
I assume this is our fate

She said, looks I should care
Escorted me into her perfect lair
To be happy again I must bare
Hunger shall not be felt, she dare

Time past while I obeyed
Didn't know I was her prey
Stood strong, results did pay
Although my life turned grey

Through all, I felt the change
People praised, I won my game
It's wrong how the world has gone
Is this what you want us to become?

- Inspired by nothing I suppose, words just found its way out. You'll get it if you own what I own. -