I’m convinced the world is built on hate. People live off abuse. Inflicting pain upon others and making them miserable given your leverage. We preach power, even the little we have, physically and mentally. We don’t care to think about what we are doing to other people. Because why should we? As long as the scars of our words and actions don’t bleed literally, why should we take notice of the impact it leaves. This is our culture now. There’s no escaping it. If an alpha person in your life hurts you, you suffer, you tolerate, you deal with it. No matter what it does to you. That’s what we are taught. Alpha’s can do no wrong. If their actions and words hurt us, we are in the wrong for being vulnerable to it. There’s no escaping it. Starts from home, and is followed by people you surround with outside home. Same shit, different circle. Everyone’s fighting for the upper hand. What the fuck for? Do we look like punching bags? Kindness costs nothing yet we treat as if it were fine jewelry rarely to be seen by elites. Why are we so infected that derives us off basic decency among some. Why do we have to replace humans with pets? Is there little to no hope left?

I feel so done with this world.

So much easier to get lost in someone and forget all of your pain. Tell them where it hurts, show them even. But how beautiful is it that they stay? How in the world did I deserve this?

It feels like light bulbs are my longest standing nemesis. It all started in the year 2011. After I returned from Lanka and joined private O’level classes. She’s always made me miserable in ways I couldn’t understand why.

We lived in a one-room apartment and the only time I could breathe without suffocating in my own space was when everyone slept and I had the sitting room for myself. I loved reading then, books were my only escape. I’d buy a book almost every other day and finish one overnight. I’d stay in the sitting room reading with the light on. But this came to a stop when my mom scolded me for having the light on by saying I didn’t pay the bills, she did, and she switched it off. After that, all my nights were spent in the dark. I still preferred staying up during the nights anyway because this was the only time where she wasn’t yelling at me. It’s was like I wasn’t doing living right. She didn’t like anything about the way I was or anything I did.

I was also only 18 years old at the time. Of course, I wasn’t paying bills.

Fast forward to today, 2019. We are living in a two room apartment, I pay more than what goes to rent for my brother who’s studying abroad. I have my own room for now since he’s not here. My mother still gets riled about the light tho, but this time it’s the one in the bathroom. I’d constantly forget to switch it off and she sees my bathroom light from the kitchen. She’ll race in often and say something passive-aggressive about it and switch it off and leave. I mean, she could just politely ask me to. Because humans are forgetful creatures, and this is only a tiny slip from a daily routine. Anyways. This drove my anxiety so I had black tape on the switch which I could see from my bed if the bathroom light lad been left on. This worked. But today, somehow, once again, I left it on forgetfully. So, my mother, she comes back from work after 12hrs, I know, she must be tired? I even called to check on why she was running late. I was starving all day and ended up ordering in. The first thing she does after she comes in is storming in and switching off my light followed by a rude remark. My mother people. No, she doesn’t ask me how I am or if I‘d had anything. The light was obviously more important. I mean, I’d been raped and shit under my parents watch, but she’s more furious over me leaving the bathroom light on than anything else. So, I thought I’d put an end to this. Went and had a good look at the bathroom light which was making my life obviously miserable, the bitch was covered in a huge ass complicated cover. Found one of the tools and took the screws out, removed the cover and removed the bulb. My bathroom light is never going to be on again. Ever. Because I’m tired of this shit.

I once dated an asshole who didn’t like my breath on his skin. This lead me to not breathing around him and an unhealthy pattern of holding in my breaths and now there are days I feel like my lungs don’t have the capacity to pump the oxygen I need.

People you love can infect you in ways you never even imagined.

Don’t love. Don’t people.

I knew in my gut he was lying yet I chose to believe him. Because the truth hurt. And today, after so many months it hurts even more because I can’t believe I chose to be his fool and ignored everything so evident. I needed his lies to be his truths so badly. It was crucial for my sanity, to go on and pretend he loved me, like he promised he did. And I never promised that I loved him, yet somehow it feels like that’s all I did.

His words were loud and meaningless, while mine were silently weighing my heart.