e s o p h o r i a -all about my imperfections as a confused sinner.

My mum demanded in an assertive tone, asking that I turn down the volume of my music playing. Yes, I exhibited a repugnant response - open defiance. She'd probably think that it is just another display of an intrinsic prerogative most teenagers possess - rebelliousness. Thus, adding another plus point to my dysfunction as their kid.

Insouciantly, I kept my head bowed towards my books, dormant to her imperative. No matter how loud the music was, it could never drown the words she said to me yesterday. My efforts to ease the pain, eradicate the hurt ... seemed hopelessly ineffectual. I thought it could be an avenue that provided escapism. I'll admit my insurgence meekly because I've understood and accepted their insensitivity to their own affliction/s.

Therefore, I'll exonerate them, submissively.

My mind reeled into a whirl of self reproach. I have always been impervious to her verbal attempts of ignominious degradation. Somehow, the conquering grimace of her words got to me. I found myself tearing silently all the way to school. The teacher's speech never seemed so incoherent. My mother's words, now, like a rebuking conscience... ... weaving a facade of delusion and deceit. Or perhaps... its a reflective musing that unravelled the atrocities in me. A wretched soul, I am.

While taking the train home that day, I thought of seeing her again. The reminiscence of that moment came back to haunt me. I told my baby about the mental predicament in me. As my fingers tapped away on the keypad, bouts of tears welled up in my eyes. I felt the need for his presence at that very moment so much, one who knows what i was going through ... the one who knows it better than myself.

The only one who can vanquish and obliterate my malevolence, whisper softly in my ears telling me 'everything's okay baby, i'm here.'

Andrea Yim
2:02 PM