I remembered the reminders of my parents when I walked through the halls during the first day of my school. Their voices were like an echo in an empty room or a broken record tape repeating all over again.
I was told to study as hard as I can to obtain the highest marks, listen attentively to the teacher in front and make sure I would remember his or her words. I was told to do everything in time and be in my best behaviour at all times.
For a messy pigtail girl carrying a backup of notebooks, colors, and pencils that jumped everytime she moved, I did not know that I would start having eyebugs or swollen eyes because I had to review for a test the next morning. I did not know that I had less than the hours that I spent in school to finish the dozens of homeworks and activities I was given that day.
I did not know that I had to think anxiously in my dreams about all the bad luck in the world that I may have during my presentation, that I have diligently prepared. I did not know that I would have missed the hours of running around in the park because I was stuck in a room learning things that produced different sound or a room where the mirrors where in front to see how you move.
I did not know that I needed to handle huge blocks of stress and pressure on my own when it was invincible to others. I did not know that I would most spend the whole day typing in my computer while my partner was doing whatever he felt like doing.
I did not know that I was placed in a high pedestal wherein I had to be vigilant about what I do if I did not want somehow spreading rumors about 'the two little goody shoes' or 'the perfect little girl.'
Because if I did, I wouldn't have tried to be the best. I wouldn't try to be perfect. I wouldn't try to be the person people adored but I hated.
Since every moment, felt like I was drowning at a never ending ocean, with seaweeds chained at each of my four limbs or my voice silent like a mute button on a TV remote. I felt like a river, bursting an entire flow of water because of the towers or mountains of problems that I had to solve each day. The disappointed faces of other made me feel like I was walking in thin ice. One wrong step and I would fall into a wave of embarrassment that would taint my reputation.
Whenever I blab about it, my friends would tell me to stop worrying, saying everything is gonna be okay but what happens if it's not okay? If it's not perfect? Then they tell me to strive for progress not perfection but they do not know about the standards set for me, getting higher after every meeting.
Whenever I blab about it, my parents call me crazy but I doubt that they will once they know how it feels. They do not know that there are whispers in the winds of silence.
If I had one wish, I would wish to dive into oblivion, dive into stupidity to save whatever insanity is making me crazy. Except I can't for I am chained to these chains of perfection.
I have pulled up my skin Way too many times now, I wish I could be bare, Not live in shells that Put me in a box, I wish to walk out, To open fields, Spread my arms, Breathe, breathe like, There's no end, Breathe like, Even if its the last moment, I die today, Without regrets, For long, I have been Saving the world, Today, I wish to put down All my arms, That protect me, That help me Be the strong, Today, I wish to be vulnerable, Today, I wish to be saved.
I paint a grave on the unrestricted canvas above us, With drops falling down over it's reflection, Blurring the already unreadable poems of sadness. For my poem is the art I wrote, Strokes of sadness, my prized verses. Drops are the full stops I missed, The reflection, a comma of my motionless venture, Begging me to impose a state of reckless error, For a grave is not complete without death and, I'm not dead. The sadness keeps me alive. I paint a grave and it's incomplete, A mistake, may I make? A dream, may I end? I'm an artist staring up at the sky listening to, These infinite verses amidst shades of red, Calling me home, but I'm a motionless wreck. And I'll spend my life staring.