indigo-c

go on, pretend i don't exist, then one day, i will disappear from your life, without warning, because, i'm not the type to complain, but when i've had enough, i will walk away.

Why do I run without destination, without a place to go in mind? Why do I run without stopping, even when I feel like my lungs are about to burst? Why do I run without looking at my surroundings, with my eyes settled just on the footpath? Why do I keep running, even when I know that I can't escape from what I really want to run away from? Sometimes, life may seem easy, but everything that isn't right is in your head and nobody else could see it Sometimes, you feel like exploding, but it is just too inappropriate Sometimes, you are not lucky enough to live near the ocean where you can scream out your feelings Sometimes, you are not fe

I watch you go and thought to myself, "I don't need you" because your presence for all those times were full of fake intentions. And I'm sorry that my heart doesn't want you there. Don't even call me your friend, and when you walk away, please Take with you Your Pretty Words Of Love. I thought you were my friend. But you left me, knowing I don't feel the same. You want from me something I can't give to you. But I want you to know that I will always remember the times we spent together when you were still a part of my life.

And the blood started dripping. I look down the bathtub and see traces of dark red starting to mix with the sweet smelling shampoo he likes to sniff directly from my hair. It looks completely off-putting when stained. And I look up to let the scalding hot water pour on my face, and on the tip of my tongue I can taste the saltyness of my tears. But the water from the shower wash them away, fast. The blood and the tears run into the drainage to be seen by no one. The noise made when each droplet of water reaches the base of the tub covers my desperate scream. And the shower curtain, shadows every move I make attempting to stop the bleeding. And

I was a little older than seven when the angels of death almost took me away from earth. I haven’t even learnt how to multiply and divide. I was a pair of innocent eyes who still wanted to see what the world is like, outside my house and my school. Feeble legs that still liked to run around, in the rain, ‘til they are too weak to run anymore. Tiny hands that still loved to scribble all over the wall, and hit the piano keys knowing the sound is out of tune. Ever heard of the riot in Jakarta in 1998? Where thousands of innocent people were killed, remember? I was there. At home, in my room, waiting for them to come and snatch my sou