By this time, I thought I would be someone else
Someone my family would be proud of
Someone my husband would be excited to go home from work for
Someone my children would look up to
Who the hell cares, right?
By this time, I thought I would have a trophy room
Proofs how great I would have become
An established writer with published books
A global teacher with international certificates
But who the hell cares, right?
By this time, I thought I would have my own mansion
A pink car that will never drive due to amaxophobia
A greenhouse full of roses of different colors and origins
A fully-functioning kitchen where I cook and bake for my family
But who the hell cares, right?
But here I am writing my greatest hits of what-could-have-been's
Realizing that planning doesn't really work for everybody
That being too idealistic doesn't help your career in the long run
That starting over will never take you anywhere near the finish line.
But who the hell cares, right?
I do and it's killing me.
My insecurites are eating me
My depression is conquering me
My entire being agrees that I'm a failure at the level of infinity
But who the hell cares, right?
I hope I can tell myself to just hang on
But when I look at the white sturdy ceiling,
That's where I literally just want to hang from
It's been the only thought I had for the time being
But who the hell cares, right?
---
December 7, 2021
Cainta, Rizal
8:03 am
Fuck my life. Happy fucking birthday to me.
YOU ARE READING
A Profound Catharsis
PoetryI am going through such an emotional stress. No professionals involved yet, so I wouldn't know the severity of my mental state. Instead of slashing my own wrist or hanging myself in the ceiling, I decided to write poems. I have also started studyin...
