The Substance Of Nothingness…

…is I.

“You are not good enough”
“You are not beautiful”
“You are not smart”
“You are unwanted”
“You amount to NOTHING”

How many times have I heard those voices chanting out those profanities?

In reality, those words mean nothing, not I and yet…they are a part of I. A part of my nothingness.

“Hush”,”Quiet!”,”Shut up!”, I would reply to each voice but yet they still carry on their mantra and seldom do they silence themselves. When they do, I'm at my strongest. Nothing can even put a scratch much less a dent on my being during those times.

"You are weak," I am not. You're weaker than me, the whole lot of you. 

I will never be that girl that dresses up to impress. Never be that girl with cooking skills of a master chef. Never be that girl with housework skills that make high-class butlers and maids feel envy. “You’re not good enough. Never be good enough.”

Make-up, crayons for adults as I see them. Why would I want to slap on layers of chemicals on to my face. Occasionally I don’t mind, but every single day? I think that’s silly. Hundreds of ringgit for a piece of clothing? I could get more of you at sales and budget outlets AND have spare for other things. “You’re not beautiful. Ugly hag.”

I care not for the age of matrimony. Care not for the grandeur of the event. I care for the wisdom and knowledge accumulated before such events. “You’re not smart. And you want to pursue a masters? You’ll fail. You'll grow old, and alone.”

I’m trying…I don’t have much time and didn’t have the skills and starting play time like you guys had…I don’t…even have anyone to help me but myself…It’s…always been like that. Well, that’s what I feel most times. I know people help, I know people are always there, I know, but…when that nothingness envelops me, “Please help me.”

“Please help me…”, I would softly say within the flurry of those harsh whispers, on the battlefield of my own mind.

Please help me, cause when they start chanting, I can’t help myself.