Girlhood is growing up, and seeing your mother more as a woman than a mother, which breaks you a little and makes you despise the realities of womanhood.

~V.J.C

(16.04.2024)

No one tells you that the worst part of growing up is seeing your parents change into someone unrecognisable, and that breaks you a little.

(-will anything ever hurt more than being treated as people by your parents?)

-V.J.C

(24.03.2024)

Instead of crying about my lovers to you, I had to cry about you to my lovers.

(-words left unspoken)

~V.J.C

(19.03.2024)

I don't think we realise how many people actually like us. That stranger you were nice to in the bus probably still thinks about you. That little girl who saw you on the street and thought that you have nice style probably wants to be like you. Your childhood friend whom you don't talk to anymore probably misses you sometimes, wishing y'all could reconnect. Some stranger online probably thinks you're pretty but is too scared to tell you.

My point is we often don't realise the mark we leave on other people, and I think that's the beauty of being human.

~V.J.C

(11.03.2024)

The men in my family never liked me. For them, I was deviant, way out of line. The women in my family pretended not to like me. They despised my nerves, impulses laced with poisonous truth. Generations of domestic rage, its power coursing through my veins. So tell me father, what should I feel guilty for, What I became by leaving? Tell me mother, what should I ask forgiveness for, What I could never become by loving?

(- the girl who could never be enough)

~V.J.C (29.01.2023)

I know I was cruel. But I didn't mean to. I just don't know how to be kind. I try, but I fail. Am I not trying hard enough? HOW DO I GET KINDER THAN THIS?? TEACH ME KINDNESS. TELL ME HOW TO HOLD YOU WITHOUT BREAKING YOU. HOW DO I HOLD A BROKEN GLASS WITHOUT BLEEDING? I'm sorry for being a monster. I just don't know how to be kind.

"Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it were mine." -Richard Siken

~V.J.C

(07. 06. 2023)

Broken glass. Spilled wine. Stained dress.

Darkened eyes. Bruised knuckles. Slit wrists.

Red. It is red. I see red, everywhere.

The room spins violently with all these pent up rage.

This rage is ugly, it's awful but it's mine.

Oh good god, it's mine, isn't it?

~V.J.C

(Excerpt from an unfinished poem I'll never write.)

[27.08.2023]

I texted my friend, "Today is a good day." Is it, though, God? All this rage is so ugly, but it's so godlike. And it's mine.

Why do you dislike her? Why do you yell? Why? Why? Why? I don't know.

I thought about splitting my wrists open a while ago with my brand new paper cutter. And the thought was so appealing. So, sinister but comforting. Imagine the quick, swift, and painless movement and the blood gushing out quickly in the most poetic way. But I didn't do it.

I wrote instead. The intrusive thoughts turned into poetry. I wish they didn't. I wish I had acted rashly, purely out of impulse. Maybe then it would feel real. Maybe then it would have made sense.

But just because I didn't do it doesn't mean I never thought about doing it. Just because I didn't do it doesn't mean I never thought about doing it.

....I thought about it.

I FUCKIN THOUGHT ABOUT IT.

~V.J.C

(26.08.2023)

My seventh grade best friend told me once, "When the whole world turns its back on you, maybe there's something wrong with you and not everyone else."

On nights like this, I almost believe her.

All these poets and authors and philosophers talk about getting over romantic loves but no one ever taught me how get over you. How to deal with your absence when you were the first person in a while who I was confident would stay a little longer, if not forever. Watching you leave was not abrupt, it was gradual. Watching us fade away was like watching the slow withering away of a flower, death of beauty. Years of laughter, tears, love, quarrels, companionship slowly extinguishing because of the lack of fuel perhaps. I'm sorry I wasn't enough, I tried. And maybe you tried too. And maybe it was worth letting go of me over a stranger. It's okay I understand. I cannot make people stay and maybe it's my narcissism to blame. But I hope you're happy. I hope they're enough for you. Maybe their altruism will make them stay.

However, remember this, I never willing let go of anyone's hand but I do not cling on to those who wish to leave. I wish there was an easier way to say this but I didn't find one.

(-on losing platonic love.)

~V.J.C

(01.11.2023)

My mother pretends to understand me, but she will never know what it feels like to see your father turn into a stranger.

They warn us about failed relationships, but no one warns you about failed families.

~V.J.C

(02.03.2024)

Self-harm is not always slashing your wrists open till it bleeds out. Sometimes, it's punching the walls because those bruises heal quickly, you can't let them see the blood. It's showering with extremely hot water till you feel your skin burning. It's holding the cutter but not applying enough pressure, just enough to hurt and not bleed out because blood is messier to clean up. Sometimes, it's forgetting to eat or not eat purposely. It's chewing on your nails till they hurt. It's feeling the pain in your mind get so intense as if your entire body is aching.

Self-harm isn't always a cry for help. Sometimes, it's suffering silently.

~V.J.C

(02.03.2024)

The edge of 17 feels like you're stuck in a strange time machine. Suddenly, I'm 11 and scared to ask my mom for chart paper at 9pm because I need it for school tomorrow. I'm 18, and I need someone to tell me what to do. I'm 13 and crying while I hug my mom tightly because I had a fight with my friends. Somedays, I'm that broken and whimpering 15 year old who had finally realised that the biggest heartbreak does not come from friends or lovers. Somedays, it feels like I'm 25 and have finally found solace in forgiveness.

The world scares me, mom, let me hide behind you.

They have hurt me enough mom, let me be my own person now.

I'm just a 17 year old girl.

~V.J.C

(21.01.2024)

don’t be a stranger! (please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it)

2023 has been a year of learning for me. It has taught me acceptance, empathy, patience, and most importantly, of all, how to find peace within myself in trying times. It has taught me that it's okay to celebrate our achievements, no matter how little they might be. It's okay to let go of things for a while and let ourselves live for a moment. And it's important to celebrate each other as well.

So, if you have managed to get out of bed, I'm proud of you.

If you have managed to pass that test, I'm proud of you.

If you have eaten well and gotten enough sleep, I'm proud of you.

If you have managed to come out of a toxic environment, I'm proud of you.

If you have managed to survive your battles, I'm proud of you.

If you have managed to find solace amongst your sufferings, I'm proud of you.

I'm proud of you for existing. I'm proud of you for making it through another year of pain and joy. I pray that we find peace, acceptance, and love in 2024. I hope we find the strength to survive another year and make it worthwhile.

I wish you a kinder sea.

HAPPY NEW YEAR <33

~V.J.C

(01.01.2024)

It's that time of the year when the city is decked up with pretty lights and there is sound of music and the spirit of celebrations at every corner. It's the time of joy.

However, this Christmas, let's remember the ones who are not fortunate enough to celebrate the festival merrily.

Happy Christmas to the ones celebrating alone.

Happy Christmas to the ones who have lost a loved one.

Happy Christmas to the ones spending the holiday in the hospital.

Happy Christmas to the ones who cannot afford new clothes or expensive cakes.

Happy Christmas to the ones who cannot go home this holidays.

Happy Christmas to the ones who are homeless.

Happy Christmas to the ones who are orphans.

A Very Happy Christmas to everyone who celebrates, be it the fortunate or the unfortunate ones. Merry Christmas to the ones who have kept the Christmas joy and the holy spirit alive in them even in these trying times.

You deserve happiness. You deserve love.

~V.J.C

(25.12.2023)