Wednesday, 26 August 2015

Self-sacrifice VS Relationship abuse

Society puts women who put up with shit from their partner as being an exemplary other half. Yet they condemn those who escape from the clutches of domestic violence and abusive relationships as being so stupid to end up in those relationships or staying in them.

Why is that?

Self-sacrifice is something often looked for in a partner, specifically women. Not that men don't get that kind of expectations from their partners either, but it's a majority-women-only kind of situation. Mothers teach their daughters "Be patient with him, remember, love is kind and gentle. Love forgives." But how much can love forgive when it comes to loving a self-centered brat? How much can love take, when the demands begin to overwhelm and suffocate, way beyond the boundaries of what is human. Eventually we go with the flow, do as he likes, not because of love or out of love, but because we're sick of the whiny shit that he pulls every time he doesn't get his way. The man-child. Feared creature that has not emerged from his mother's arms but tries to grab you like a much-abused plaything.

After watching the Viddsee video titled Gloria , I realized this one thing. It left me feeling sick and disgusted but at the same time pleased. Why? The main character's ex is asked why she left him with no warning. Her reply touched a raw nerve in me that while screaming silently, sang of a memory I relive when watching the short film. I have been that girl. I have felt like Gloria has. But I have also been Kate, his under-appreciated fiancee. Truth to be told, I'd ask Kate to dump his sorry ass before she starts to regret it too. Someone as childish as that, would continue to take decades before maturing no matter how many promises are made and broken. Some never mature at all. But I digress.

SPOILER ALERT: Gloria tells Leo that he has never looked at her and loved her for being her. He loves her because he wants her to be his dream girl. She is not and never would be his dream girl, and realizing this, she leaves him. Point is? He doesn't see her as she is. He doesn't see her at all. And up till he is engaged to Kate, he still does not see the women who love and have loved him as who they are. He still questions why he marries them simply because they don't want the things he wants. This made me feel so sick to the stomach I wanted to cry. And Kate? What's her reason for sticking by this big, childish, immature asshat? The producer only knows because I for one feel that this, is the kind of video that makes women think they ought to be that self-sacrificing martyr.

I'd say get out there and burn some bridges, girl. He's no man, he's a baby with the ego the size of the galaxy and the balls the size of his brain.

~Rei Shiori

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Catching of a relationship+emotional state

My mother used to say that my only emotion was anger. 

If only she knew how much deeper my emotions ran in my veins that they thickened my blood to a quiet, brooding silence, often mistaken for, you guessed it. Anger. I was never particularly good at hiding or showing my emotions. Now I’ve lost control over both. I cannot talk without crying. And stress sets me off like an automated fountain, programmed to go off at every motion its sensor detects. OCD has taken care of my anger. I hope you’re pleased to know, it barely turns to anger now. It merely becomes anxiety. The kind of gnawing anxiety that sits in the pit of my stomach, making me clench my fists and dig my nails so deep into my palm that I leave half crescent marks that don’t fade for hours. So deep that I leave half-moon bruises embedded in the thin skin, made thinner by countless washings of my hands because of my OCD. But you wouldn’t know that right? You’d probably see this insane person looking like she’s about to bite your head off for something trivial. Sometimes it’s trivial to you, but not to me. See, like dropping something my very OCD self has just washed. Or, I don’t know, maybe touching something dirty and then coming near me while insisting it was clean. Trust me. I saw it get dirty. 

I have felt a multitude of emotions wash over me ever since the day I dumped my fifth (you read that right) boyfriend. None of them have been about missing him. But I have missed what he used to do for me. Before everything blew up in my face, he was a pretty sweet guy. You know the type, opens doors for you, pulls your chair out for you, waits for you to eat before he digs in, makes sure you always eat something because he knows you get gastric, waits up for you when you can’t walk fast enough…Prince Charming material except everyone knows Prince Charming has the brains of an emu, not that I want to insult Prince Charming since after all he does go through all the actions of being a gentleman.  I miss those actions, just not the dude. Regrets? I have none. Except maybe wasting too much time trying to figure out if I should’ve stayed or left. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not this ultra-bitter bitch who thinks every guy is an asshole or that princessy girl who wants everything done for her. It’s just nice once in a while to have someone come in and sweep you off your feet. Preferably not with a broom though. And certainly not sweep you off your feet to repeat Neanderthal procedures of “you’re a woman therefore you do the chores” or “you make pretty good arm candy” or even the “let’s go at it like rabbits” kind. 

My one emotion, anger, has evolved by leaps and quantum light years since the last time I checked. Now my range consists mostly of annoyed, sad, depressed, anxious, hurt and moody. I do still get pissy from time to time, so do beware. 

This kitten has claws.

Just talk

I have not written anything for myself in so long that it feels like a stranger coming home to a life he should have known. What with everything going on, I still feel as empty as before. Work cannot take that hunch away from me any longer; call it paranoia if you will. But I feel like I’m going insane inside and nobody sees that. Because I continue to go through the motions and live like nothing ever changed, because I still smile on cue and try to say the things I should be saying, therefore I seem ok.

I am not ok. 

I am not ok because I feel like I’m living someone else’s life and that I’m just in everyone’s way. That pesky little thing left on everyone’s to-do list. That nuisance. 

I am not ok because no matter how much I try to live in the present, I will always compare what I have now to what I had back then. Don’t believe the lies when people tell you they will treat you like the princess you are. You’re no princess. You don’t have what it takes, none of all that beauty and shit. All you have is that bitter heart and that constantly self-deprecating mind. And they’re no white knight in shining armour either. Romance is an illusion that drugs you. A poppy full of opium, all prettily decked out in colours of blood and pain. Don’t you come crashing down after that high? I do. I crash when I realize that people are not as they seem. I’ve been there so many many times and yet I am still like this, na├»ve and hopeful. Romance is a lie. Friendship is a lie. If it’s all smiles and sunshine, I must’ve probably died and gone to heaven. 

To feel so much and not be able to talk is killing me. The anxiety of never being enough, of not doing well enough is killing me. I cannot keep fighting the tears, but I cannot keep boring the people around me with them. I feel so fragile. One more break and I’ll just go so far crazy I might never come back. I’m so tired. Can I please not feel anything anymore? I can’t keep up the act. I’ve never been good at acting. So I’ve gone over to hiding. 

As I’m typing this I’m crying quietly just a screen away from you. Just a few inches away. And you will never know a thing until it’s over and I’ve destroyed myself again ten times over from the inside. Can you hear the bits of me disintegrating? Don’t worry. I’ll build myself back up into that person that you want by the time the world awakens. And they wonder why I have so many masks. 

Every time I call out for help,to try and tell someone how this storm inside feels today and the only voice I hear is my own, I die a little more inside. I'm not sure anyone really sees me anymore.  I think they just see what they want, when they want it and I'm just this tiny part of a bigger plan they have for life. A tiny, insignificant part.

One to another

You were chaos to my enraptured mind,
All of you,
Beautifully disturbing to this,
My demented thoughts inside,
But right after you calmed,
This crazed storm within,
You started another,
I cannot win.

~Rei Shiori


Like all that came before,
It was another illusion,
Was it not?
Why fan these flames,
When I am but another,
Tick in the box,
If you cannot live with it,
I can well do without,
I'm not just another duty,
Some accomplishment,
Which you have won,
Something scheduled into a time slot.

~Rei Shiori

Saturday, 22 August 2015


It was a chronic kind of sadness,
And she could not explain it,
Any more than he could understand it,
So they lay in bed,
Staring till the silence grew too thick,
It was like an eclipse,
Another sun,
Retreating bit by bit.

~Rei Shiori

Thursday, 13 August 2015


I can hear you so loudly,
My heart hurts.

~Rei Shiori

Tuesday, 11 August 2015


They say you'll know,
When you're depressed,
Everything loses it's colour,
Becomes a little,
Washed out,
But what if I feel,
Merely drained,
And tired,
Of everything,
What if I'm just,
Tired of myself?

~Rei Shiori


Why do you shine so bright,
Yet still try to hide?
I see it in your face,
But you turn away,
Why can't I kiss these scars,
All the others have made?
I can't trust you,
But I can't trust myself more,
Not to make the same mistakes,
Why do I hide?
But you hide too, love,
I can't understand,
Why you burn bridges,
But can't let go of the ashes,
Long after they've turned to dust,
Why do you choose to hurt?
Who are you to be fixing my burns,
When you're still bleeding from the pain,
Of all these old wounds?
We're both the ones,
Who cared even after they were done leaving,
Look at me,
Look at you,
I'll lick your wounds clean,
If you'll be this broken heart's glue.

~Rei Shiori