Madonna Mia

A LILY-GIRL, not made for this world's pain,
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,
And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears
Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:
Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,
Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,
And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,
Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.
Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,
Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,
Being o'ershadowed by the wings of awe.
Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice
Beneath the flaming Lion's breast, and saw
The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.
                                         - Oscar Wilde

I thought it would be okay after all this time that has already gone by. I thought awkwardness and silence on my part was okay, as long as it got me through everything. Well, as long as I remain intact in one piece at the end of the day. I didn’t expect myself to be capable of that single tinge of sadness or hurt from something I’ve already grown accustomed to. It’s just another of those days when my emotions surprise me more than ever.

See, no matter how much I have told myself not to feel, no matter how many times I try to dodge the incoming bullets, they still get me at my weakest. I wish I’m invincible, or better still, that I’ve been invisible all along. What many don’t get is that, I would never have asked for any of this, to feel like I’m flying high before all of that is taken away. That’s how most people’s minds work; To never have own, than to feel the pain of loss.

What’s the use of speaking about my feelings only to have them brushed off as insecurity again and again. Yes, it’s the insecurity that’s eating me up inside. But why? Because I’m afraid of losing everything and letting go. Because I’m fighting like hell to open these doors and keep doing so, but all I ever feel is like there’s no point if no one wants to come in. Why would I ever want to talk again, only to hear people say “It’s nothing, you always think too much.”. Why can’t anyone hear me out, give me the benefit of doubt like how I just listen instead of pushing others problems aside and cutting them off before their story is even done.

I have it easy because I have the right looks, the right grades, the right face, the right hair, the right everything. You can take it, you can have it all. You can take all that away, and then you realize I’m left with nothing. I'm not funny enough, I can never say the right things, I can't offer your comforting words or advice, I can't hug the right away, I can't smile properly, my jokes are never funny, I'm not cute or vulnerable because I'm too fierce, I'm not someone others would stay around to protect, I'm never good at anything, I'm not kind or considerate, I’m a no-good doer, I'm not the gentlest girl around, I'm not made of sunshines sweetness and flowers, I bring a depressing air all around, I'm quiet, I'm selfish stubborn and full of angst, I can’t get anything right, I’m not good at anything, I'm just not. I'm a huge boulder, unmoving and unfeeling, I make people angry upset and frustrated all the time. There’s nothing redeemable about me, and when it comes all the way down to this, you’d realize that there’s nothing much behind me, I’m made of air, negativity, all the bad things in life and emptiness. Here I am, someone irreplaceable, who’d never matter. Take that away.

If there is nothing missing in her life, then why do these tears come at night?