under-estimated

Saturday, 29 August 2009

Sometimes you feel weird. You don't know what you want to do. You have no mood to do anything. You feel so helpless that all you can do is to cry. You keep crying. Your eyes are swollen with your tears. The tears won’t stop.

You flinch at the slightest incident. You try your very best to chill off and keep your cool. You want to control the emotion, but not the other way round. You try your very best not to lose your head. But sometimes your loved ones just don’t understand what is going through your complicated body system.

The oestrogens are all over the place, they agitate you and you try, with your utmost ability, to keep your face straight, so that you wouldn’t be mistaken for giving the wrong facial expression. It all turns the other way down, and you get slapped painfully in the arm. The pain surges right up to your brain, you want to react, but you hold things right there. Although a catastrophic disaster was prevented, it had not helped other disasters from occurring.

You just want to be left to your own devices. You want peace and quiet. You want some time and space to cool off. You know that things would be better as long as you’re able to do so. But no, the other party would never allow you to do that. They interfere for no reason. You want to shout, scream and scold that party, and even hurl things at them. But, no, you know you can’t do that and you didn’t. Instead, you take a deep breath and slowly count from one to ten. And there again, you’re classified as rebelling for taking that deep breath.

You feel so helpless. You just want to hide in the room, with soft music in the background, snuggle up with your blanket and cry your heart out. You wish for someone to understand that there’s something making you feel upside down. But no one understands; only the dog does. He is man’s best friend, but he can’t speak. He looks at you and snuggles right up to you, you know that he’s trying to comfort you, but it doesn’t work the same way like when a human tries to comfort you.

You’re aimlessly searching for a way out, amongst all the tissues and tears. You want to get out of this mess soon. But you don’t know what to do, the only thing you can feel now is that it's still painful in the arm.



Houston, we have a problem. We're running low on tissue paper, we might need to get her a towel, or...

Pump her up with ecstasy and make her happy again.

by makk at 5:47 pm |