I don't want to play anymore. I wanna give the world a big fuck you. I wish I could kill myself already. There's no one to count on, not even people you pay services for. One day I'll get the guts to kill myself. Till then.

I don't see my life ending any other way. I die of misery or I kill myself. That's pretty much it.

On the Heavier Side of Things...

Is saving up on 6 months' worth of rent worth reliving your trauma?

My boss recently messaged me, saying I'll need to look for a place to move to because it does not look like we're going back to the office till next year. When I moved to her place last March, no one ever thought that I'd stay till July. It's very difficult to look for places to move to in such short notice. On top of that, I'll also need to set up an internet service provider. It's so stressful. 

I thought of going back to my father's place because it will help me save up, as I wouldn't have to pay for rent. Electricity and water won't cost that much, I'm sure. But I'm highly doubtful if that house is okay to live in because last time I was there, it wasn't. And my dad is too adamant against throwing all the useless things he has hoarded throughout the years. 

Last time I stayed there, it was so draining to fight him that I feel like I'd rather slit my wrists than scream my lungs out again. Did you know that when I went there last year, my dad kept forcing me to come with him to meet his friends? Of course, I don't want that shit because it's a waste of energy. Know what I did? I walked to a corner of the house, pulled out my sanitary napkin, and shoved it to his face, blood and all. 

That certainly shut him up. It's also a funny story to retell every once in a while. 

You know, before my first therapy session, I asked him if he remembers that time when he'd burn the back of my hand with his cigarettes and he said he never did it. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, because the memory is fuzzy to me, but when I asked him if he remembers that time he hung me upside down? He vehemently denied doing it, saying he just scared me. Too bad for him, that was something I remember clearly. 

Eh. 

Anyway. 

Maybe this is what I need to settle once and for all. I'm full of resentment. How do I forgive my father? 

How do you go about mourning someone still alive, I ask, hoping that if I mourn enough or that if I mourn just right, maybe he would be as good as dead. Or maybe things would fall back to its rightful place.

Would it count, this weight in my chest that I have to carry throughout the day? Or these tears that just never seem to fall from my eyes? Should I instead spend hours curled up on my bed and crying to mourn for someone still living? Or is mourning also remembering and asking these questions when I go to shower at nights?

There's a silent wish that maybe if I cried louder or softer or maybe even longer than I did, maybe he'll come back, because even though he's alive and well right now, my heart knows that the man I once knew just might as well be dead. Or maybe it's me I mourn for because to him I just might as well be dead, and I mourn because this one heart I have, this one that I struggled to wear on my chest, still belongs to him.

Should I have knelt and begged longer till my skin bled? Should I have gripped his hand tighter? Should I have pounded my chest stronger to get the pain across? Should I have stayed and waited all night till he believes that we should still be together?

How do you go about mourning someone still alive and well out there? Someone might say that it's done when I move on and go forward? But the heaviness pulls me back.