I'm bitterly lonely. I've uprooted myself from what I call my home, to create a home elsewhere. I am not adjusting well. I pine for my friends, my known life, the comfort of love, and the familiarity of belongingness. I am a stranger to this city. I have nothing and no one who resonates with my heart.
This would have been worthwhile if I received love from him. Instead, I'm pitted against a moving clock, slotted between calls to Mr. A and later to Mr. X, fighting for slivers of time before exhaustion kicks in at 10.30pm, hovering in the background in the hope to have conversation. I have been reduced to a thing. It's me or that phone call, it's me or that email, it's me or that old Russian woman who wants to recruit right-fucking-now, it's me or the work party, it's me or his sleep, it's me or that flight to USA, it's me or it's millions. I guess the choice became simple quickly.
I lost everything effortlessly. Sure, I cried. Sure, I crumbled. But all things said and done, it was effortless. The way my name rolls on his tongue...it comes out all awkward, almost unwillingly. The way millions rolls on his tongue? You can see him savouring each alphabet. I was effortlessly crushed. All the promises forgotten.
I am caged in a mansion, with walls for company, and a ticking clock reminding me of my worthlessness. My mind is playing games on me. My heart is going on its own crusade against god knows what. My lips are parched for love. And my eyes are dead.
I have to speak right, I have to think right, I have to communicate right, I have to fuck right, I cannot express my desires, I cannot voice my needs, I have to cook right, I have to entertain right, I have to support, I have to acknowledge, I cannot ask for anything in return, I should dress properly, I should lose weight, I should have kids but none of the ugly physical outcomes, I should have kids that look like him, I should raise them right, I should love his parents, I should love my parents, I have to be the one who queues, I have to book his appointment at the hospital, I have to cock my emotions when he's sleepy, I have to tip-toe around his demanding schedules, I have to take what I've been given, I have to get a job, I need to make sure his clothes are ironed, I need to keep the house clean, I need to keep my volume low, I need to wake up with him, I need to smell good, I have to look good at all times, I need to hide my emotions if they're negative, I even have to walk in a girly way.
Enough of these rules.
M against millions. Millions won.
Happy now?
This would have been worthwhile if I received love from him. Instead, I'm pitted against a moving clock, slotted between calls to Mr. A and later to Mr. X, fighting for slivers of time before exhaustion kicks in at 10.30pm, hovering in the background in the hope to have conversation. I have been reduced to a thing. It's me or that phone call, it's me or that email, it's me or that old Russian woman who wants to recruit right-fucking-now, it's me or the work party, it's me or his sleep, it's me or that flight to USA, it's me or it's millions. I guess the choice became simple quickly.
I lost everything effortlessly. Sure, I cried. Sure, I crumbled. But all things said and done, it was effortless. The way my name rolls on his tongue...it comes out all awkward, almost unwillingly. The way millions rolls on his tongue? You can see him savouring each alphabet. I was effortlessly crushed. All the promises forgotten.
I am caged in a mansion, with walls for company, and a ticking clock reminding me of my worthlessness. My mind is playing games on me. My heart is going on its own crusade against god knows what. My lips are parched for love. And my eyes are dead.
I have to speak right, I have to think right, I have to communicate right, I have to fuck right, I cannot express my desires, I cannot voice my needs, I have to cook right, I have to entertain right, I have to support, I have to acknowledge, I cannot ask for anything in return, I should dress properly, I should lose weight, I should have kids but none of the ugly physical outcomes, I should have kids that look like him, I should raise them right, I should love his parents, I should love my parents, I have to be the one who queues, I have to book his appointment at the hospital, I have to cock my emotions when he's sleepy, I have to tip-toe around his demanding schedules, I have to take what I've been given, I have to get a job, I need to make sure his clothes are ironed, I need to keep the house clean, I need to keep my volume low, I need to wake up with him, I need to smell good, I have to look good at all times, I need to hide my emotions if they're negative, I even have to walk in a girly way.
Enough of these rules.
M against millions. Millions won.
Happy now?
