My angst…

I told myself that I won’t be like all the other women in love stories and soap operas whose lives fell into pieces the moment they meet the “love of their life.” This love who has proved to be naive, inconsiderate, cold and short-tempered.

But then again, how did those stories end? Wasn’t theirs a happy one? Or did I just imagine it?

Apparently, most of the women born in this world are bound to such fate. For them to be destroyed by some loser and be reborn from the ashes like the phoenix in all its glory and radiance.

But I didn’t say that the phoenix can’t be killed. But it has an amazing ability to be reborn again and again.


This paragraph has been edited as it contains NOT pure hatred, but hatred nonetheless. It kinda sounded cheesy as it got longer.



My Dad told me, as I was crying my eyes out at Shakey’s 2 days before Christmas, “A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.” I’ve somehow blamed myself that I pushed you to hate me because I spoke of many useless words that didn’t help our situation. I was sad and lonely, lost and longing, abandoned and jealous. I felt ill to the guts. And I said, “You don’t have power over me anymore.” I ate my words too soon. I found myself fallen into depression as Christmas approached. They say, “Hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned.” You scorned me. But I didn’t want to let go of you yet. Not like that. Not while we’re miles apart. Not with that bitch for your neighbor.

Today, we had an argument. You were working and didn’t want to be disturb. But I just asked how you were doing, didn’t I? I showed concerned for your selfish ass, didn’t I? But you brushed me off like a paid whore.

Hear my words when I say, I DON”T WANT TO BE TREATED THAT WAY. That you’ll just be nice to me WHEN YOU WANT TO and I CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. That’s a fucked up life. DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT if you don’t want me to get fed up about all these. Yes, I ALSO get FED UP. I WILL GET ANGRY WHEN I WANT TO and if getting ANGRY too will be your ANSWER then, FUCK YOU. Yes, I’M SCARED that YOU”LL GET ANGRY AGAIN the way you did this CHRISTMAS, but I WILL NOT lose my IDENTITY just so I could get to YOUR GOOD SIDE. I LOVE YOU, but I’M NOT YOUR TOY. I WANT TO RESPECTED AS THE PERSON I AM.

I don’t want to be my Mom… obedient and silent. You’re becoming more like your Mom… cold and indifferent.

P.S. I’m scared for the mere fact that you’ll read this post and get mad… It’s so sad that I’ve come to feel like this about you…


~ by Thrain Ashknel on February 16, 2008.

One Response to “My angst…”

  1. Woah, take it easy lady. =)
    Life’s too short to spend it in the company of jerks. You gots to do what you gots to do.

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