Is having to much emotions a sin?
I once knew a soul. This one soul, who has been a fighter from the beginning; who has always been the shenanigan of its own heart beat, that more often than not, could only flutter to the edge of existence, only to be able to grasp the corollary's exclamation mark of its every hope it endures so dearly
This one soul; who was incarcerated in this morally-degraded humanity; who gazed in repellent disbelief to the idea of living, with only platitude to hold on to; to the idea of one's conscience being emasculated, skinned, burned, to the point where one vindicated the act of misconceptions;
Non-restorative sleep is not the adverse effect of withholding pain
Borderline atrocious is now considered as benevolence, when it comes to the act of contravening one's own aptitude to feel deeply
Digression from being pled guilty by the society for the incapability to drizzle the world sympathy, to being condemned for having too immense of a heart is, as matter of fact, a normality; until 'the drama queen' was the only identity it had the right to embrace
Talking about what really matters by being completely open into the very core of oneself is, in fact, the abominable violation of one's own secrecy, and hence, the label of debility shall rest upon its shoulders
//
Not only this should have considered as the first-degree murder of the soul itself, but also the defamation of its viability
This one soul wanted to exonerate itself so badly, it often even ponders the conduct of disrupting the balance of the universe
Yet, all it ever did was to become an escapee;
An escapee of its own life-
Is this pronouncement still too subtle for the visually impaired being to actually envision the tragedy those misconceptions has led to?
Does this one soul have to proclaim its agony to the relevance of physical trauma?
Is it supposed to bleed profusely out of its every open wound, as much as it has always been into its own body cavity; in order to be adequately seen as a valid affliction?
Are its legs' muscles supposed to be torn into million layers until finally acknowledged that the running has never been based on the intention to hurt another soul, but rather to thwart the hurt from its extravasation into the recess of what was left of its own quintessence?
And that the running has been as exhausting for it as being the one to be put the blame on for the continuing relationship's failure it has gone through?
//
Again, the question should be raised;
How did it get into this?
What happened to forthrightness?
How did burdening the verdict of guilty upon the victim's shoulders become justifiable?
Was the slippery slope argument not just a philosophical concept anymore? That when the one exception to a law is followed by more exceptions, it would progress until a point is reached that would initially have been unacceptable?
Is what needs to be faced now no longer just a stigma, but a dogma?
//
How good should the story be, to emulate a dogma?
How bright red does the bleeding wounds have to be, to be noticed as a not fraud-inflicting trauma?
How many verse more does it take for the suicide anthem to be echoed, before the other person realized it was already too late, and impossible to find the pulse, anywhere?
//
Is the other person aware of his pain-inflicting conduct?
Does the other person still think that having the ability to feel everything deeply equals to being a crybaby, and that is not acceptable in any way?
Does the other still loathe the presence of lackadaisical being in this harsh, harsh world?
Does my capacity to feel need a pardon?
//
He was chosen, once
And he will always be chosen, anytime, unquestionably
But, the frequency he has been emitting was too bizzare to be deciphered
He is, sadly, prone to, (not sadness), but negligence
//
Human is believed to have two sides of self
But, regrettably, his scintillating appeal scarcely appear, compared to his demanding tendency
//
Everything has always been about him, from the beginning of it all
And the probability that it's going to stay that way is almost definitive
//
He is so easy to be fond of, everyone would tell, especially those who have not known his other side
But the chasm the love leave, once it's given to him is too real
//
Not that love needs a reward
No, love is supposed to be unconditional, I understand
But his proclivity to be the only subject of any beneficial exposure can be such a disgust, it could numb even the most thin-skinned being
//
I love him; that is beyond doubt
And I've been committed myself to continue that act until the end
But, it's only been less than two months,
and I'm already coughing this purulent poem
//
It's not to say that I want to start being dubious about my own decision
But, would I be willing to sacrifice my dignity to become such apathy, only for the sake of keeping this relationship's flame burning; even if I should be the one doused in gasoline?
//
They say that people don't change;
The person you met for the first time and the person you are with right now, will be the same person you're going to spend the rest of your life with;
So then, it's okay for him to (indirectly?) insist me to suppress my emotions for the sake of his comfort?
And I'm supposed to just stay quite, watching him wring every last drop serotonin out of my veins?
I'm supposed to be the one fathoming and absolving, always?
//
Do I even have the right to refuse to give my mercy for the things he has done, which until now, is still not deemed as misdeeds?
//
Is having the audacity to utter raw emotions considered as a sin?
Have I asked this?
Why isn't he answering?
- fidelysiana // 'The Screech'















