POV (Point of View)

The words came like a sledgehammer to me. "I am a failure." It was a text from my friend. This amazing person, this vibrant soul who has been my pillar for years. All the things I have been through, I couldn't have done without them.

So when they texted me how their closest people blasting them for being a failure, for not being able to keep these people happy, all baseless accusation specifically made to broke them down, I saw red.

How dare they hurt this precious person. How dare they made this deity cry. Because I know this person and I know how capable they are. I know how much effort they put into everything they do, laced with care, sewn with affection. How dare these bastards ran a verbal knife to them like that.

I am even angrier at my friend. I am both angry and frustrated for their ability to see how precious they are. To let someone unworthy just trampled them like that. To be broken down like a worthless 99 cent glass instead of a priceless antique Waterford Crystal or a Baccarat.

Yet that's what abuse did. It erodes your mind, your confidence, your self-worth. The attack may look swift, but it was done in a period of time until those attacks become the norm. Until you don't know what were you before you were destroyed and reshaped. 

And all you can think of is how to satiate your abuser. Maybe if they are happy they won't attack me. Maybe if I play by their rule they will spare me. If someone angers them and I got the repercussions then f- that person. If I anger them then it's my own undoing and I should have been better.

The thing is, there will never be 'better'. You are a sand sack, ready to be punched whenever they feel like it. Sometimes physically, but always verbally. Even if you are perfect in every way, they will find flaws, mistakes, errors. This is never about perfection. This is about control. This is never about you. This is about them.

I know it's hard for people who were abused to believe in this. I am still struggling too. Another good friend told me they felt weird every time I said "Thank you for being nice to me." They are my friend and this is basic human decency. I know but there are times when I don't believe it. 

For me who has low self-confidence and went through two crash and burn relationships in which one was extremely abusive, I still get caught off guard by basic human decency. I still don't believe I deserve to be loved, to be treated nicely. I am still worried the backlash would come, the hand that pets me becomes the hand that strikes me. The words that lifted will be the words that smashed me.

I know the answer is love. Love from myself, love from others. Only with love I can realize my true worth, and stop willing to be treated badly. I must have been worth something if someone cares for me so deeply. But then the question is if I can see that someone cares for me, or am I going to stay blinded?

Babe, if you read this, please know that I love you. I love how our minds vibe. I love all the shades we throw. I love the many different things we can talk about. I love how kind and patient you are. I love how we can agree to disagree, which shows how understanding and open-minded you are. 

I know things don't feel this way right now. I know things feel so bad and so dark. I know you just want it to stop, to give in to the void and feel nothing else. And you know what, you deserve this break. I am just sitting here next to the hole you melted into, waiting until you are ready to come out. I am here, babe. I love you.

"I wanna love me (ooh)

The way that you love me (ooh)

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view

I wanna trust me (trust me)

The way that you trust me (trust me)

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view"

- POV by Ariana Grande

Goldilocks

And I found myself chasing dream again

Looking at the windows

Knocking on doors

Letting myself in uninvited

Somewhere out there I will find the perfect fit

A delicious experience

A comfortable cuddle place

A place to rest my wandering soul

But I took what little deliciousness they can offer

And they will not offer me any more

I broke the chair that couldn't hold me

I was thrown from my sleepy nest

And the anger was unchecked

Rage against my insubordination

Fury for my daringness

And off I went running once more

I keep telling myself after houses are bad

The promise of forever is a poisonous treat

Walk away Goldilocks, walk away

Keep your little feet on the road

Yet once or twice I will look at the window again

At the warm fire dancing in the hearth

Of the comforting blanket and loving gaze

Of having something to call my own

Not right now, Goldilocks. Not right now.

Let your golden flocks bounced in the wind

Let the birds sang with you and the grass whistle

Let the wolves keep you warm under the ancient oak tree

My pretty dress is tattered and the dirt colored it

The calluses grow thick and the eyes grow dark

The loving girl was gone and the wild woman is born

Only the golden flocks stay

Sad Goldilocks, lonely Goldilocks, precious little princess

Looking for a home that's not for her

A dream that's a mere illusion

A love that's unattainable

Your deliciousness will flow freely, Goldilocks

As freely as the love you give the world

Your seat will be stronger than you are and twice as large

Your bed will be soft and inviting and perfectly yours

Until then, Goldilocks, stay true

To the lull of the forest and the song of life

To the things that love you like no other

And put your happiness above all

Kind Goldilocks, brave Goldilocks, priceless little queen

You will find your castle soon. I promise.

The Unloved

It's 6.30 am in Pomona and the street walkers are still out. One in tight leather skirt. Another in bright pink assemble. One woman, maybe not street walkers, sat at the bus stop in her nightgown with empty gaze.

Who will love them? Who will love the unloved? The ones huddled beneath all their belongings, their weak roots desperately grasping for some anchor even when knowing how easy they can be yanked once again.

Who will love those who only have their body to sell? It is not an easy way to make a living, but it will have to do. And even when you just had enough, you have to keep pushing through. There ain't no rest for the wicked.

Who will love the person who was screaming her head off at the bus stop? So erratic and so angry as if the world had taken everything good she ever has. Maybe the world did. Sometimes even God can be a dick.

It's a cold morning in Pomona. The sun shines gently atop the gold medallion tree, making their yellow flowers look even more bright and beautiful. I have my job, my lunch, a place to go home to. Life is good.

In another world a mere click away a war is raging between the vaccinated and unvaccinated, between progress and tradition. A constant race on the tiny screen to be the goodest boy/girl of all. Mining for likes, panning for fame, digging for followers.

Yet for the unloved none of this matter. None of the comfort I have is theirs. None of the debate, the race to glory, the keyboard war affect them. None of these will help them. They are invisible.

Good morning loved ones. I see you and I see your pain. I feel your struggle and I taste your bitter tears. I apologize for the hurt the world put you through. I love you then. I love you now.