Hey there! It's been so long since I logged in. I've just released my first poem after a year!

"Beware of monsters. They're not only around you, they're inside you too." As a child we were always scared of the monsters that our parents warned us about. Those ugly, horrendous and dreadful monsters that usually hide underneath the gloom dusty and empty spaces of our bed. They were said to come out when we were alone in the dark, feasting mercilessly on our sorrows, agony, pain and despair in the most gruesome ways. And this was the part that made us scared. They could do anything to us. Anything that we loathed. We cry out in hopes that someone would come to our rescue and the monsters would go away. And someone would, for a couple of times. In those times those monsters would stay away. But as time evolved, they did too. When the presence of someone would be nothing but a faded memory, the monsters come back. But this time we were not able to recognize them until they had inflicted pain on us. They wore enticing smiles and dressed fashionably. They sugarcoated words yet they seemed genuine. Who would have known that a daisy was a poison ivy in disguise? So when the truth was revealed, you broke. They had fooled you in believing that they were gone when they had always been lurking around, waiting for the right time. Their psychotic desire for your agony as a child seemed like it only thing that did not change. You cried, and screamed hoping someone would her but unlike before, no one bothered to come. All because you were now older. So you hid the pain. Without knowing that the pain had planted a new disturbing emotion inside but you did not care. You did not care about the pain. Or the fact that you did not feel anything but hatred and sadness. You did not care about how people talked about your drastic changes. You did not care to who you would treat nicely since you treated everyone with an equal desire of hatred. You did not care about anything. Because now you have grown. Because now you were not the same old child pleading your parents not to close the lights. Because now you were not hiding beneath your blanket as a shield against the monsters. Because now even if they masked their crooked smiles, they could never hid their eyes filled with malice or their calloused fingers with a thin cloth of gentleness. They could never scare you again. Because now... You were one of them. 19.10.19

CHAINS OF PERFECTION I remembered the reminders of my parents when I walked through the halls during the first day of my school. Their voices were like an echo in an empty room or a broken record tape repeating all over again. I was told to study as hard as I can to obtain the highest marks, listen attentively to the teacher in front and make sure I would remember his or her words. I was told to do everything in time and be in my best behaviour at all times. For a messy pigtail girl carrying a backup of notebooks, colors, and pencils that jumped everytime she moved, I did not know that I would start having eyebugs or swollen eyes because I had to review for a test the next morning. I did not know that I had less than the hours that I spent in school to finish the dozens of homeworks and activities I was given that day. I did not know that I had to think anxiously in my dreams about all the bad luck in the world that I may have during my presentation, that I have diligently prepared. I did not know that I would have missed the hours of running around in the park because I was stuck in a room learning things that produced different sound or a room where the mirrors where in front to see how you move. I did not know that I needed to handle huge blocks of stress and pressure on my own when it was invincible to others. I did not know that I would most spend the whole day typing in my computer while my partner was doing whatever he felt like doing. I did not know that I was placed in a high pedestal wherein I had to be vigilant about what I do if I did not want somehow spreading rumors about 'the two little goody shoes' or 'the perfect little girl.' Because if I did, I wouldn't have tried to be the best. I wouldn't try to be perfect. I wouldn't try to be the person people adored but I hated. Since every moment, felt like I was drowning at a never ending ocean, with seaweeds chained at each of my four limbs or my voice silent like a mute button on a TV remote. I felt like a river, bursting an entire flow of water because of the towers or mountains of problems that I had to solve each day. The disappointed faces of other made me feel like I was walking in thin ice. One wrong step and I would fall into a wave of embarrassment that would taint my reputation. Whenever I blab about it, my friends would tell me to stop worrying, saying everything is gonna be okay but what happens if it's not okay? If it's not perfect? Then they tell me to strive for progress not perfection but they do not know about the standards set for me, getting higher meeting. Whenever I blab about it, my parents call me crazy but I doubt that they will once they know how it feels. They do not know the low whispers in silence. And if I had one wish, I would wish to dive into oblivion, dive into stupidity to save whatever insanity is making me crazy. Except I am chained with the chains of perfection.