Tuesday, March 13, 2012 @ 9:21 PM
They said I don't understand, I don't know anything. I think I know more things than they think I know. They said I was young, a body of an adult's but a mind of a child. I don't blame them for not being able to understand me. But they didn't even try. They don't respect me. None of my decisions matter to them. Whatever I do, they don't approve. Even if I do it according to their will, there's always something to complain about. About me not doing it well, not doing it right, not doing it for myself.
They said I always aim for self-destruction. Me, being rebellious because I was still so naïve. So young and clueless about the world. I may not have their experiences but I think I possess some of my own. They said I was a high achiever but not for myself. For them, they said. I admit I always strive for perfection but I do it because I want to get it right the first time. I never do it for anyone else except for myself and God. The times when I really feel like giving up all my effort is because of them. Why can't they just leave me alone?
They sniggered at my words. Whatever I say rang hilarity in their ears. I never said it, but it hurt. It hurt not because I felt humiliated but because the people whom I love the most don't even trust my words, let alone listen to what I have to say. When will they ever realise that I'm not a doll but a human being just like everyone else? I'm not good at expressing myself but it doesn't mean that I don't have any feelings. I always appear strong but everyone has a limit. But the minute something inside me gives way, they saw it as an opportunity to unleash their biggest threat. No, they don't give me words of comfort but words dripping with sarcasm - they stung like bullets through me.
Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity. - 1 Timothy 4 : 12
They said I was defensive. Stubborn. Mindless. Ignorant. I tried telling them about the story of Timothy in the bible. They scoffed and said I was clever with my words. Twisting the story to my own advantage. Those are words of the bible; I just repeated the exact story. What is the point of me lying, really? I wish they'd listen more. Listen to what I have to say, just for a minute, spare me. But I know that's one wish that'll never happen.
They said I was pitying myself. Crying just to console myself. It's rare that I shed tears because of my overpowering will of self-control. But when I do, I don't do it for self-pity. Sure, I was deprived of so many chances, but why should I even pity myself? There are people who are less fortunate than me, I'm aware of that. And oh, the irony when they try to console me after saying that. It's like murdering someone and then trying to save them from death. That's their way to silence me, to rob away my only escape when I'm already feeling helpless. Desperate, but it works.
One word, repeated past a million times.
Why?
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Whisk me away