Thieving

You remember my dream about the man who was stealing my precious bag along a highway in the dead of night? I am living it everyday. I walk in a daze striving to hold on to my prize. You handed it to me, so precious, so full of promise. I was going to cherish and protect it. But with each step I take, I feel one hand on my throat sucking the breath out of me. The other slowly pries my little treasure from my grasp. I am scared. I am scared.

WAIT! 

IT'S MINE! HE GAVE IT TO ME!

But I can't shout it out. 

I don't because it's safer to have nothing to fight for, nothing to hold on to, nothing to be responsible for. 

It's safer to live in the silence of your dreams, building castles in clouds than on the solidity of chasing dreams, wrestling them down, and turning them into reality. 

I don't because I have knitted together a safety net, a substitute of the best. 

I can't. I don't. I won't.

Hands wrap themselves around my neck. I can no longer breath.

Help me.

The Year Of Vulnerability

I can already feel myself hating you. You who keeps coming to me with the same problem over and over. You who is not ashamed to fail over and over again and come back to me, every single time to tell me of your bad habits. I am beginning to hate you. You who is not like me.

I am angry. That I am sure about. What I do not know is whether I'm angry with you or myself. With for failing in the same pathetic way. With myself for lacking:

For lack of courage to fail ceaselessly like you do and still rise up.
For lack of empathy towards you.
For lack of happiness.
For lack of patience.
For lack of love.

For hating you.

It makes me hate me.


PS. This is not what I expected to write for my first blogpost of the year. Not very sunshine-y, but can we really control the Muse and its dictates? Happy New Year All.