Cruising Alone

  A boy came to me, asking— "Can you help me improve?" A boy who spent his drunken nights in the arms of a mistress, now claims he was always a good man. He asked me— "Why won’t you play my mother?" Why? Because your parents failed you and your brother? Because you need a woman to mop up your shame while you parade your masculinity and pretend you’ve changed? Well, people are filing FIRs for words filthier than yours. But what about you— the one who left my body wrecked and laughed as I fell? And now you say— "Let it be. Otherwise, who will buy you a lightsaber? Which man will claim you now?" Did that laughter and power disappear from your face now? When you said, "Get lost." When you hid behind your brother’s strength. When you ran, sneering— "Ah, is that why you’re causing trouble? Because you’re not getting money?" Wow. But sure. You are such an amazing man.

  A guy like you— who boasts of conquests like trophies— dares to call me a psychopath? A guy like you— who measures his worth by body count— Do you  think you can shame me? A guy like you— who has built his pride on silencing others— believes he can shut my voice? You justify your choices, wrap them in excuses, but hold me to standards you’d never dare apply to yourself. And I am the one to blame? Men like you deserve no sympathy. Oh, you pity me? I do not need pity from a man drowning in his own bravado. The audacity— to tell me to "calm down," to label me hysterical, to say, “Don’t take it personally.” Your intentions were pure? Where was that purity when I said, I won't be able to take this anymore? Now you would go on and say you did everything you could? But aren’t you the one who was laughing, mocking me when I was in pain? I was never afraid to stand up— not as a child, not now. And I sure as hell won’t let you walk away unscathed. You tried to humiliate my very s...

  Go ahead, flaunt the size of your wallet, I was never in it for your pocket, Because I don’t “phasao a man” nor view them as a “catch.” Ah, the false notion you have— That you were the one who brought me down to my knees, As if I was hopelessly in love with you. If only you could comprehend what was really beneath the surface. It wasn’t about losing myself in you, But in losing my purpose. If you think it was all for you, Let me make it crystal clear: I wanted to burn my skin off, To rid myself of the stench of what you think you touched. This was never about your age, race, or face. It was about the rhythm of your aura, And how your energy consumed mine, Pulled me into its pace, Until I could no longer remember my own. You mistook my confusion for submission, But what you didn’t see was the storm raging within. Your power was nothing more than an illusion, An empty shell that I once thought I needed. But now, I see through it— And realize my worth was never tied to your validati...

  Born the elder of two girls, I thought, "Be strong, be wise, for who else would take care of them?" So I studied hard, played sports to build muscle, Not for joy, but survival. Yet someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I ignored the indecent touch, Kept my skirts in the drawer and wore cargo pants instead, Silent, because I couldn’t risk losing my freedom— The freedom to complete a school project. So I collected A’s, never rants, But someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I became a shield, a safe haven, Protecting those who sang in their innocence. Yet someone's son says I was always an insane woman. I befriended men others scorned, Thought kindness could mend wounds— But instead, I was wounded. Sexually assaulted by one I tried to defend. Still, someone's son says I was always an insane woman. At 25, exhaustion clung to me like a shadow. Couldn’t even learn the violin without That middle-aged man stealing my dignity. Yet someone's ...

Inspired by the haunting intensity of Halsey’s "Control," the defiant rage of "Nightmare," and the raw vulnerability of "Bad at Love," I wrote "Creep" as a reflection of my own struggles with mental health. It captures the weight of both external judgment and internal critique, especially when society demands you to embody an impossible ideal of femininity and purity. This piece delves into the battle between the labels imposed on us and the monsters we fight within, seeking to reclaim humanity in a world quick to condemn. Creep— You say I am a creep, That I will sow what I reap. I dug a hole so deep, Because you say I am a creep— That I deserve to weep, Because you say I am a creep. Well, I can't even say what I really want to say, Or else I'll go beep, beep, beep. The monsters kept me awake, When all I craved was sleep. But you say I am a creep, A wolf in sheep's skin— A label so cheap. I felt like a garbage heap, No shots for me, j...