no longer yours.

And if you have to ask about her day,
and state of health,
about her life,
all that she once would willingly,
tell you herself,
she is no longer yours.

And if you are left confuse,
with questions unanswered,
more questions to ask discovered,
with silence as the verdict,
whether it is a her or a him,
then you have lost both (him/her).

Does it bother you the day you realise you have to ask questions yourself, building conversations or there will be none? She no longer bothers for your attention or to lit up your mood, brighten up your day with good news of her achievements and compliments of and from everyone else. She no longer waits for you to come home or mind if you don't. And if you have to keep on asking when you never did before, you know your thoughts no longer have an affect on her. No longer your favourite well-known little girl. At one point you might get sick of what she's become, or maybe it is just your insecurities and fear of losing respect that you try to deny by getting mad at her for the faults she has never done. Does she shift awkwardly away and find reasons to not breathe the same air as you are at the moment? Avoids you with reasons unsaid as she pretends to be asleep or doing what seems way more significant than to spend time with you. It's not always a "she", it could be a "he" according to whoever that feels the same or notice such similarities. It's not the right thing or will it ever even fix, to regret over what you once did when you know how it would end and of what it would do.

Take a mirror and have a stare,

she is no longer yours.

-riri-

just a call.

*fades in to a couple months ago*
He takes one thing,
He replaces it with better.

This could've been in malay but the cheesiness of it belongs to only one, and we wouldn't want to ruin that. I was thinking of my last resort, if maybe this would be the day. To go although I know better not to. Sometimes it doesn't really matter what you do, the mistakes are yours to learn from and if it happened, wasn't it because it was meant to?

Eyes opened to a familiar feel, a kind of atmosphere with a pinch of nostalgia I never was very keen of. Except it was in a different house, a real home, I was younger of course, braver definitely. No obvious tears despite the dampness of my cheeks that says otherwise. Forget it, I thought. I sneaked out of the room for the phone, dialled my number one with a heavy heart I proceeded. Her voice was what soothe my state of being as honesty made its way through my eyes and casual conversation starters drop deep. It's astonishing how the right people can be able to turn you back to who you were; helping you out of your armour. They put it down to heal your wounds, for goodbyes to all the bruises you never had a second look at. Ignorant for your own good.

Next, it was down to my one and only. I hear the dial wishing he would pick up, half of me hoping that he wouldn't but - "Hello?" - he did. He obviously didn't recognise the voice on the other line and I wasn't surprise or did I had time or consciousness to get upset about it. Especially not when I notice his voice lowering into a softer tone. It's always hard at first, but he was there. I felt bad that nothing was really being said initially although it came around to me after awhile, still I found calmness in the silence we shared. I felt a curved moving slightly upwards and back down on my face. It's not always when your eyes are heavy that you speak of the truth. It wasn't always about midnight with us, it's when your heart is heavy and you have no one or nowhere else to turn to, that you realise the one you shouldn't be fearful of, the one who have seen it all and wouldn't mind seeing more was there all along right in front of you. Standing still waiting for you to notice.

It was just a phone call,

that saved my life.

-riri-

using and used.

"And I know you have a heavy heart; I can feel it when we kiss

So many men stronger than me have thrown their backs out trying to lift it

But me I'm not a gamble you can count on me to split

The love I sell you in the evening, by the morning won't exist."

fake you out.

I have committed
Dirty dirty crimes that are perfectly form-fitted
To what I've done and what I'm doing
I'm brewing and losing and spewing infusing
And believe me that's what all the kids are doing
What kids are doing are killing themselves
They feel they have no control of their prisoner's cell
And if you're one of them then you're one of me
And you would do almost anything just to feel free...
Am I right? Of course I am
Convince me otherwise would take all night
Before you walk away, there's one more thing I want to say
Our brains are sick but that's okay

-21pilots-

old bond old trust.

Out of 100, there's always a 50 percent chance of me going back to those who once I let in, to those who once let me in. Whoever who was nice enough to be there and cared enough to care, one way or another I would end up going back to for just one last conversation. Every time, without knowing which would be the next time but sure of a next time.

Lee, out of everyone I knew he would never have said no. Although he did, with a reason legit enough for me to let aside. We go back to talking like I was the big sister looking over my little baby brother, no matter how old he has aged; this time it was quite the opposite. My age was stapled on my forehead for him to put his hand on, pet, and in relief be the bigger man. With words once used on him, he said meant for me. It made complete sense, sense of which I could've consider myself but at that moment, some days and time, I stop making sense or find logic in the usual. Days where my mind stops working just to let out the crazy in me. I didn't find myself worthy of such honesty and help but I never forgot what I was given, how I was treated and the amount of times I asked forgiveness. I couldn't thank you enough.

After all this time,

never did he forget,

neither regret,

but cared and still care.

-riri-

"i must forewarn you of my condition".

Having a disorder, or mental illness, or blood behind your eyes and sounds of screams running through your rocket speed tears, whispers in your sleep with guns inside your head with bullets bouncing from the walls of the inner side back and forth up and down all around, is one thing.

Telling someone about it is another.

To your loved ones the hardest. Leaving you with mixed feelings. Between the relief of letting it out and having to maybe say goodbye to a part of you. Between the sympathy and agony in seeing their face drop as they wonder where they did wrong, looking back at all the times they took what they saw lightly, or never had guess even a clue of what was happening and satisfaction of leaving them standing corrected for all the times they accused you of doing it on purpose just to flip them off. Between taking the risk of being told you have lost your mind once again, that this is you and your made up problem, that you are pretending for attention and actually getting the empathy you deserve following by the slight chance of recovery. Between getting better and never going back and getting better with your fate in the future beholds a big sign stating "relapse" at one point. They say if you never try you'll die wondering but is the risk worth the ending?

At one point everyone gives up and you would too if you were handed such a task but sometimes it isn't for us to decide, this kind of mistake that has no u-turn, the kind that has an impact on your life that lasts. Not being able to do anything about it but to grow with it or out of it with help or on your own. For people to worry and for me to end making them feel unworthy or useless by what I have been doing or has been happening to myself, is too much to swallow. Having them to take so much time of their day to check up on you, just so you wouldn't do anything beyond their comprehension. All these while you have lied to them after they trusted you, just to save them from you to end being the one who killed their hopes and form of thinking and beliefs. How could it not get worst, than to self loathe for the one thing you thought you did right just because you were doing it for everyone else? Sometimes the hardest things to say or do are the ones worth it, they say.

What more to be timid of? Maybe, the thought of acknowledging the fact that they can't comprehend the things you explain to them or find the logic in what you've been doing, to be such a burden once again the way you always had and money money money you're using up all of it leave some for us!! and stop. Stop the voices in your head. Anxious over made up thoughts. Though it's true. Day 1 they check up on you, oh please please I hope you're okay. Day 2 they check up on you, god I can't lose you stay with us. Day 3 they check up on you, I hope you're doing okay I love you. Day 4, day 5, day what? What day? What who? Who what? Who knows? No one does.

That is how people care, the kind of care you're afraid of. As days pass by, their affection and attention and love causes so much positivity on you to one point when they assume how you're okay now, that you are good. That they can leave it be & treat you the way they did as you fall back to the same old pattern and it saddens you, the disheartening thought and feel of how you are only significant or seem so when you are on the edge or have the highest possibility of losing your life and others losing you, only then they reach out to you. Above all the only thing you're scared of is finding out that it doesn't matter, the way it does to you, the way everyone is to you because this too shall pass although to you it won't, to them it will always.

So we, and I, we sit still,

contemplating, going back and forth,

staggering to the same spot we start,

and we struggle

we struggle

we struggle.

-riri-

*savours every bit*

Don't you say the words you've been keeping in

for every single time I do wrong

to come back to me hours later

acting like you're sorry

as if you should be forgiven

just because I would always forgive you.

Don't you lie through your teeth

with eyes that scatter around the walls and back at me

just to get mad at me for every time I wasn't true

as if you weren't the one to have taught me

all the things I do.

Don't you praise me, cherish me

to then erase me from all the good

to throw me in the bad just so you could have someone to blame

just so you could feel mighty and right and proud

just to feed your repulsive ego.

Don't you care about me, 

to one day call upon me and my mistakes

yelling to my face while you push me down

to tell me I'm just another burden

as if I am not worthy to be given life

when it's you that have brought me to where I am today.

To apologize, or not at all in the end

going on pretending nothing ever happened

yet still treating me coldly

expecting me to be friendly

to smile and laugh along at your jokes

after all the obnoxious things you said and hurtful things you did

don't.

-riri-

tangled up.

All the stress and silent slow suicide is making my hair fall hence giving me the oh so very strong urge to cut my hair short, bleach it all to the colour white so I could dye my hair a different colour every month to the damage I've done upon myself, cutting it every now and then when I'm fed up. As if there's nothing to it. As if I can't really care more about me.

-riri-