This is what you've made of me

I often want to laugh at myself when I act unusually than how I normally am. Just like now. I've been dragging myself into things that beat my sanity. It was never the same again since that time happened, things have been different since then, the way I see things, the way things exist, the way I do things, and the way I've been treating myself. Everyday was a habitual torment, that after some time I have learned to ingest in my system. My breaths are heavier now, and sometimes I can feel the lag in between, which I'm not bothered about. That airless spur of time, that skip of a beat, I can feel my heart sinking, I could choke with it. My constricted breathing reminds me of the pain. And it's constant. It's heightened when I remember him. My thoughts, they're invaded by him. It's ironic. I have made a deal with myself not to think of him, but the effort was always futile for my unconsciousness defies my willingness to do so. The more I tell myself to, the more it contradicts. How could I even succeed with that when all the things that surround me are contaminated by his presence. They're ubiquitous. Lingering. The streets where I walk every single day, reminds me of him. At night, I could see silhouettes of us the night I beat him with my slippers when he showed up without my solicitation. Even in my home, the sofa where he sat comfortably without any hint of fear of my mother's presence. When these things defeat my purpose, I feel so beaten up, helpless and vulnerable. I forced myself to be strong, but my tears would always give away my weakness.

His indifference annoys me, yet it makes me want to be there more for him. The more he tries to shut me out of his life, the more I push myself into it. For how long will this last? For how long could I hold this all up? How far will my strength take me? I don't even know if this is what he really wants. I actually know, and this isn't it. But I feel that this is what I should do. Punish myself as he punishes his. This is mad, then mad let this be. Two weeks of madness and now this isn't new anymore. This is how I've become, so mad, so desperate.

I laugh at myself in pity.