those girls

there are these girls. the ones the whole world loves to love. they wear the right clothes, everything fits perfectly. they look great in every photo, without even trying. their make-up is just right, their shoes are perfect, they never seem to wear the same thing twice. they seem to float along, everyday, just floating, wondering which club to party at for TGIF, where to meet their girlfriends for lunch this tuesday, which clothes to sell at their garage sales to tame their exploding wardrobes full of glitter and glamour. their boyfriends (and their moms) think the world of them, showering them with gifts, shiny things, flowers, heart-felt compliments, like little boys seeing beauty for the first time. these girls never have to worry about those games boys play, they are too beautiful, too precious to risk losing. their facebook statuses are always about bitchy colleagues at work, a great weekend trying the best food with the best company, some awesome new acquisitions from recent shops-capades. they are not much acquainted with melancholy (it never lasts for more than two days) and sleep well at night. they are beautiful even when they sleep. they never need to try to be happy, it's just how they are at their rest state or equilibrium state or whatever.

then, there's me.

to be happy is like going for a swim in a stormy sea. i have to fight doubly, triply hard, much harder than others, just to be happy, and then, stay happy. the moment i lose focus, the moment i slack on my strokes or my arms or legs grow weary or water enters my goggles and i try to recover, i start to be pulled away by all these angry, vicious, vengeful currents. and before i know it, before i can even try to salvage the situation, i'm helpless. the waves are crashing repeatedly over my head and it's not even about swimming anymore. now, it's just about breathing, fighting for my life, fighting to stay alive. the temptation to give up is so intense, my panicked screams and cries are being replaced by desperate gasps for air. "you brought this upon yourself," chide the ones i call out to for help, and then they go on with their lives. i can't argue with their point though, can i? but why must it be so hard? it's not like i don't try. i try where others don't even need to try. why can't being happy just be as normal to me as breathing is? i don't blame you for wanting to stay away. i would stay away from me, it's like being with death.




i guess there's some beauty in walking on even when your heart is breaking...

into a million little pieces.