This Is "My" Story

📷 Samantha Qeja

I bleed,

A subliminal feeling, burying me in the depths of sorrow

Crying out for help, but all it is noise

They tell me to say what I feel but that's all there is

Why don't you ever open up...? When I do I get crucified for it

You are not ambitious, You are careless, You are no good

Me opening up becomes their weapon to further shoot me down

The bad lingers as the good slowly become reference of what I could be

A good deed is accompanied by a but...

Only if you did it like this or this way, it could have been better

Wait! What about what I want?

All I am, a portrait of people's ambitions and opinions

Molded in what they think is good for me

Do you even know me? A shadow of what you purport me to be

I bleed, 

Because no one understands my story

Hold up... Understanding means they know at least something

Have a tiny glimpse, but I don't think they even know me

Okay, here is my story... I lost my father at a tender age

But I ask myself how can you lose what you never knew

The void that He left, left more questions than answers

What if He was here then it could not have been like this...

But a tiny voice breathe into my ear, 

Child, how can you view the world on what you know not

Never will I know the feeling of having a father,

So I search for it in other people's son 

But, what exactly am I looking for? I really don't know

Because the depths of my memories don't have anyone to compare to

I bleed, 

Watching my mother struggle raising me left a scar in my heart

Having to take what life throws at you without complaining

Complaining was a luxury, an option I never had

Life grinned, roaring its supremacy as if to laugh at our pain

Reduced to a life's emotional hoe, Yes, I said it...
Sucking it in,  infused in my bloodstream
It made me guided, emotionless and an introvert.

The burden that life gifted me and tattooed, for people to extend their spite

But was it my fault?

Nobody care to ask or listen

I bleed,

Because it is not about how many times I vent but what I'm going to do about it 

To get command of my mind, to choose to take in things that are in my best interest

To make or break myself

End my story or open a new fresh page and write it in my own words

Words that have become my sanctuary, my solace, my therapy sessions 

That is a journey I have embarked on, a thousand miles ahead of me

But, Oh Yess I'm getting there