|
soliloquy; ephemeral landings
|
|
Posted on Friday, 15 May 2015 @ Friday, May 15, 2015
For the millionth time after telling myself "I can do this", "I can survive this" and "I can handle this", today is the day I give up on trying to be strong. I have tried my hardest to do this for you, and I cannot do it much longer. I have tried to give my heart out to something I never wanted to do for a living, instead to do Journalism or study English but that's okay, I understand we're not as rich as anyone else. Or I'm not as intelligent as your friends' daughters or sons or the kids at church.I am sorry for not being able to earn a place on the Dean's List, for not being able to score a decent CGPA the whole time I told you I was struggling for air and clinging onto thin straws. I am sorry for not being able to make you proud and for making you listen to your friends talking about their kid going to America or scoring perfect pointers and on the way to become a doctor or a pharmacist. A dentist. An engineer, architect. I am sorry, I really am. I dread coming home because I know I'll be coming home to listen to everything I cannot be for you, and everything you couldn't see in me. Throughout the year, I have been keeping myself involved in activities veering more towards the Arts field, like I always have during high school and as much as I know you appreciate my efforts and talents that still need sharpening, I know you would appreciate it so much more if I were in decathlons or science quizzes. For that, too, I am sorry. I don't know where else to speak of this, how else to tell it to you without bursting into tears and raising my voice out of frustration, depression and self-disappointment every five minutes we argue about it. Over and over again, throughout both semesters of my foundation year. I try to tell you that I cannot spend the rest of my life doing this, why can't you understand? Maybe, just maybe, one day you might overlook what you want me to do and see what I've actually accomplished. Maybe one day you might be able to read my works without feeling that they are created out of featherheaded ill-logic and poor thinking. Maybe they are, I am sorry for that. But I tried to make you proud. All those minor publications, did they not mean a thing? Why is it that my whole life has to be mapped out to be unfortunate just because I failed a science subject or two? I cannot be happy some days and be frustrated most days, Ma. I don't write as often anymore. That's bad, real bad. Please. |
Kaleidoscope of Craziness
I write to change, to express, to share. All pictures are mine, unless stated. Enjoy roaming around ;) Some people are destined to sing. To act. To host a talk show. To become a songwriter for recording artistes. To take phenomenal pictures from around the world. To teach. To heal and to nurse. To be in an orchestra or to play an instrument by the streets to entertain the weary passerbys. Everyone is destined to be an individual who'll change the lives of others someday in their own unique way to touch hearts and heal broken ones. Everyone has a destiny, a road to walk and a path to remember when you're old and sitting by the fireplace, reminiscing the old times. I believe mine, is to write. FOLLOW INSTAGRAM TWITTER Tweets
Tweets by @iloikecrazy
little thoughts
Breakaway
Please Click! ☺
Imprints
♡ 1; MKCC
♡ Lost ♡ Once you said you loved me, all of me You wanted... ♡ Battle ♡ Week ♡ On nights where the moon shines brighter than it... ♡ Rewind, Stop, Forward. ♡ It sears the heart inside and out, branding itself... ♡ Waves ♡ Silence Credits |