a daylight dream

  I think I’m allowed to be strong now. and God, isn’t that petrifying? there’s so much rage in every single atom in my bones. I could slam into things and watch them get destroyed. those eyes can pierce into his cruelty and undress them into fierce nakedness that he’d find nowhere to hide.  I see you . and he’d run. there’s a strength they’ve never seen before.    a once volatile, fragile little thing holding on to the softest rose petals has turned into a colossal storm. my breaths have become so heavy, dense and solid with accusations and weaponised punch lines. it’s vast how far pain could go. I’m glad I’m enraged. it hurts to say it— but I missed it. it’s like I’ve been looking for my rage for such a long time and it hits home to feel it, like a missing running vein in my system has sparked into life, streaming forcefully, bruising everything in its wake. I don’t mind. my eyes tear up now, partly for all the things I’m excited about, and partly for all the other...

  I need to remember to be angry. I need to remember that all these years, I’d learned helplessness and to hope against hope that things would be better. I’d learned that it was only divine intervention that would do— and nothing I’d do would amount to anything. that may be true in one way, but it isn’t on the other side of the coin. I need to keep doing something. the moment I return back to how it was like before, I’d fall back to forgiveness. I’d fall back to forgetting the pain, the only thing that I need to be remembering if not actively recalling every moment of the day.  I’m not supposed to forgive right now. I’m not supposed to deny how much I’ve been betrayed. I’m not supposed to discard my rights to live in kindness and empathy. It’s my right to have expectations for my life and to want things, to actually  need  things and never feel guilty about it. it seems that everything I had learned all these years have broken me so much. and it saddens me that every...