Keep Up

What’s eating you up? What’s that tremor in your hand? Why are you shivering? Why do you want to cry? What are you feeling and what do you need?

No, it’s. No, it’s not cold. No, I don’t want to. I don’t know what I’m feeling  No, try again. I feel… suffocated.  Why? I don’t know, I don’t know, i don’t know! I need to breathe. 

I need to breathe….

The desolation and ache, needing to release the poison, the fervor rage and sentiment. I want everything to be okay again. That blissful ignorance. I miss the smile I used to have, before everything happened. No, no you don’t… you’ve grown so much since then, don’t feel like you need to go back. oh but it was so blissful then…. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what heartache was, I didn’t know what disappointment was. If I was tired it was because school was hot and I was playing soccer before going for choir and coming home late because I wouldn’t stop talking to my friends. If I was sad it was because my favourite food stall didn’t open and I couldn’t get my favourite noodles…

When all else fails, where do you go? When you wake up from a nightmare, kicking and screaming, how do you shake it off? How do you go to sleep knowing that you’ll probably wake up sweating and palpitating?

It’s that heaviness in your chest,

The scream just waiting to be heard.

It’s the exhaustion that you have,

The anguish so deep inside that you can’t express.

What is that? Why do memories haunt her everywhere she goes? Why can’t she have a day without her memories? Why can’t she just forget it?

She’s waiting for superman to lift her up, and take her anywhere. Show her love and flying through the air. Save her now, before it’s too late tonight.


Stumbled and Fell

He took something from me. He took little pieces of me, little pieces over time, so small I didn’t even notice, you know? He wanted me to be something I wasn’t, and I made myself into what he wanted. One day I was me Cristina Yang, and then suddenly I was lying for him, and jeopardizing my career, and agreeing to be married and wearing a ring, and being a bride. Until I was standing there in a wedding dress with no eyebrows, and I wasn’t Cristina Yang anymore. And even then, I would’ve married him. I would have. I lost myself for a long time. And now that I’m finally me again, I can’t. I love you. I love you more than I loved Burke. I love you. And that scares the crap out of me because when you asked me to ignore Teddy’s page, you took a piece of me, and I let you. And that will never happen again. – Cristina Yang, GA.

I cannot breathe, I just cannot. I curl up in the corner of the bench, huddled over my laptop, desperately trying to put my thought into words. I find myself dependent on my medication and that’s not good. I panic when it diminishes in quantity from my backpack. I sit there, staring at the corner of my mind. The corner where you dragged your sledge hammer and destroyed, do you remember that? You cross my mind so often now that I think you still exist in the people I love the most. That scares the shit out of me. You have no idea. Remember how you left me not only broken but shattered and ground into fine powder?

I’m afraid. I’m afraid to try new things now. I’m afraid to be open to new experiences and new people because you made me so afraid. I wonder again and again, how is it you managed to turn a confident, bright girl into a cowering, academically challenged girl? How is it that you managed to snatch away the light behind her eyes, her fiery passion in her heart and her spark of hope in her heart? How is it that you managed to slam her across the wall, to hurt her, and to accuse her of hurting you, and on top of that, managed to make her believe that it was her fault? How is it that you managed to make her believe she was inferior to you? How was it that you managed to make her apologise to you even though it was clearly your fault? How was it that you managed to make a girl with a backbone suddenly fall on the floor, cleaning up your mess and promising to make changes when the one who needed to change was you?

How did you do that? How could you take her naivety and mutilate it into your own little disgusting creature? How did you make her flinch from the touch of others? How did you manage to make her second guess her every move?

But no, there’s a more pressing question that burns my mind right now.

How the fuck did she allow him to do all that to her? How stupid could she get? How idiotic could she be to continue to keep herself be under his spell? 

How did she allow herself to sink that low just to make you happy? How did she hit rock bottom just to be someone you wanted? How could she let herself?! How could she lose herself just like that?! How could she lose all her self confidence only by the few words that you told her?! That she was never and can never be good enough for you! That she could never be better than she was simply because she “never tried!” That her tears were nothing but a futile means to get your “pity”?! Your pity? You think she cried because she wanted your pity? 

You may be a memory for 5 years ago, but it stays fresh in my head, 

It was as if everything just happened yesterday.

Nothing you say now can change what your past actions have brought up.

Panic Attack

ImageIt could’ve been anything, anything at all. Any small thing could’ve triggered it. It could be the man who accidentally bumped into you in the supermarket. It could be the rape or suicide scene in a movie you were watching. It could be the sunset that was so beautiful it literally took your breath away. It could be a thought. A small thought. A small harmless thought.

Then suddenly panic surges through your veins while cortison and adrenalin pumps through your blood and body, making you hyperventilate. You gasp for air, but it’s never enough;; it’s never enough. Your head swims in fear as you think “oh no, not again, not now, not here, not in public.” People stare. They know something’s wrong with this girl. You can feel their eyes boring into the back of your neck as you maneuver your way to a secret spot or a safe hiding place to calm yourself down. 

Once you reach that safety spot, your body makes a cruel joke on you. Just kidding, here, have another bout of it. Fresh panic kicks in and the world spins around in circles. Your heart palpitates like never before. It hammers in your ears, in your head. How do I explain the panic…? Imagine almost slipping in your bathroom. That split second panic when you right yourself up again? Imagine that but 10 minutes long. The seconds felt like hours. and the minutes felt like days. The panic continues to surge. You continue to hyperventilate. 

Not enough air, not enough air.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. That’s the only thing going through your head. Tears fall freely from your eyes. You want to scream out for help but your mouth is inhaling as much air as possible and don’t be silly, you hid for a reason – you didn’t want anyone to know you’re panicking for no reason at all. 

By the time you calm down and slow yourself down, you’re in nothing but a mess of tears and snot. Regret and shame takes the place that the adrenalin and panic once dominated. You sit in the corner, in your spot, in the darkness of your secret and you rock yourself to calmness. You hug your knees and whisper “everything’s going to be okay”. It’s a mantra that goes through your head. It’s the fantasy that someone will find you in that condition and not look away in disgust and will hold you tight, saying “everything is going to be okay.”

What it if isn’t going to be okay? If others could survive through it, why can’t I? As quickly as the panic turns into depression and shame, it turned and manipulated itself once more. This time, it turned into anger. Why can’t I learn to control it? Why can’t I be normal?! Why is this not getting any better?! And soon you find yourself yearning, longing, aching for the relief of a knife. Of a blade. Anything that can relieve you of the pain you felt inside. Anything that can spill some warm, sticky, bright red blood. 

Anything to numb you out. 

Fighting Back The Tears

I just got a phone call from my therapist I took the liberty of calling the university counselor and she said that because you’re in academic probation for a quarter, if you fail this quarter’s finals, you’ll be dismissed from school.” 

i just gaped because in my mind, the only thing going through it was “what. the. fuck.”

I could easily take the offer of having my primary health care doctor write a letter and excusing me of this whole quarter and next quarter. But then I would have to be admitted into the recovery facility in another town for a whole bloody quarter. Which is NOT what I had thought they would put me through – I’m not that messed up right? 

Fight, fight, fight. Don’t let the tears fall.


No. I’m Jackie, I don’t back down. I don’t care if it’s my pride or my ego or whatever shit you’re going to call it, I won’t take it. You can’t make me go to some shit facility because you can’t take care of me and make me progress as fast as you want me to. I’m fighting back and even if that means that this week is going to be a roller coaster without tracks. Even if it means this week is going to be swimming with the sharks with a wound on my leg. Even if it means that this week is going to be filled with suicidal thoughts. I’m going to fight through this. And prove them all wrong. ALL.

I’m pissed,

I’m mad.

I’m ready to fight back. 

Save Her


A blank screen in front of her, all she wants to do is to convert her thoughts into words. What’s that? Its just her thoughts. It’s trapped in her head like a guilded cage. Just like her.

She’s nothing but an empty shell these days

Punch the wall. Just punch.

There isnt much that she has been doing. No, no, she’s been doing a lot. She’s been lying. She’s been hiding. She’s been crying. She’s naught but a shadow of her former self. Her very essense leaving her in little slips. So slowly that she barely notices it.

Punch. Punch.
It hurts.
Don’t think about anything else, concentrate on the pain.

What’s that? That’s her pile of work. Her procrastination. Her consequence for being so mentally fucked up. What’s that? Can you hear it too? Its her silent screams that radiates from her eyes. It’s the anguish in her heart. It’s the desperation to escape everything. Do you hear it too?

Abort, abort, abort,
delete all thoughts. Punch. Just punch it. Ouch, the skin split. It’s okay. Keep punching.

What’s that? You feel that too? The heaviness in her heart? The panic that rises up her throat? She isn’t getting any better is she? She’s clambering. She doesn’t know what she’s doing anymore.

There’s blood. Punch through it. You deserve the pain.

Faith, Hope, and Love

ImageDoubts, doubts, doubts. When will everything be done and over with?

Even if you’re “back to normal”,

you’ve already gone through so much

that you still wouldn’t be “normal”.

you’ll always be different

and that is what’s going to make you

special and stronger than the others. (K.S.)

I’m a disgusting piece of wreck that has been trying to glue herself back together, how do you put up with me when I can’t even put up with myself?

I accepted your past,

I take you for what and who you are,

I’m excited for the future because the future will be bright.

And if you can’t see it yet,

I’ll still stay by your side until you can see it. (W.L.) 

I never wanted any of you to be dragged into this mess...

Too bad I’m already in it.

Now we just have to figure this out together,

you may be used to fighting your own battles,

but now you’re not alone anymore. (W.L.)

I’m exhausted and I’m so tired…

You gotta stay strong, dear.

You know how to reach out for help,

so just keep on doing what you’re doing! (K.S.)

When nothing else seems to work,

Time does heal many wounds,

so just hang on tight, (K.S.)

Don’t, please….

She’s talking to angels, she’s counting the stars. She’s making a wish on passing cars. She’s dancing with strangers, she’s falling apart.

I painted this when words failed me. When words become superfluous and emotions are all that show. Raw, hurting emotions just waiting to burst out. Caged and stuffed into a small container, like a shaken bottle of pop.


Don’t send me away, I promise I’ll improve, please. Please, I’m not that messed up, I’m not that bad. Please don’t send me away to some facility. I don’t want to leave school either. What’s wrong, am I not making enough progress for you?

Am I getting too much of a burden?

Am I getting in everyone’s way?

What’s wrong, why am I not getting better?

Is this not enough?

Am I trouble and too much to handle that you need me to think about a higher level care? I promise I’ll work harder, I’ll push through, I’ll force myself. Please don’t send me away. Please….