bloodshot eyes

I looked into the mirror and it reflects strands of veins in my bloodshot eyes. They open up like tree branches and each node seems to tell a story. They're all under the brimming tears I can't hold in and they magnify, I see the reasons behind each established lines of despair while the tears kept getting pumped in the duct. & this is what I see.

The baby pink one: my favourite one. its my princess vein where possibly if any royalty blood flows in me, it definitely comes from this. dad, younger brother, friends and boyfriend, you all have treated me like one at different points of my life, & tears from this definitely are tears of gratitude, and of love

The rosy pink vein: It reminds me of how we got together and how happy we were. Yet it was there because of the loss I felt when I feel like I could lose it all. The more attached and blissful we were only cemented the possibility of loss deeper. Yet everything about you is so romantic, this line would forever remain pink, just for you.

The scarlet red vein: It tells the story of abandonment. My mother issues creeps in everytime I had to cry. I don't have one really. Mother, you are just a title and embody none of what society celebrates you for. you exist but never existed. I cry for the lost childhood and I wish I would experience a little more of it in my next lifetime

The really bloody, dark red one: everyone has a dark side and this one looks significantly redder and thicker. It must have contained all the pent-up frustrations and anger I have failed to supress. They look as if they were on the brink of eruption. I smell vengence and feel lots of hate emanating from that one. Just looking at it scares me to death. Oh wait, it did reek of death. It's living reminder of all the unpleasant people and events that made it up. It compels me to do things I'll regret. Please don't rupture, I'll send for tools for mitigation. Please wait.

The ruby red one: Its everything I wanted in my future and it sparkles like a real gem. It's alluring and asthetically pleasing. i was so hoping I could bring it out crystalised like swarovskis & it could be profitting if I could ever make crystals of my own. even this farfetched thinking seem possible looking at it. Yet, its there because somehow my present seems more than bleak. What cruel fate.

They weave and intertwine. it parallels my conflicting emotions. you are my comfort and at the same time my source of discomfort. This complexity is what propels the engines of my tear ducts. I weep at the impossibiltiy of us. I weep because of the people I care most about didn't care. Wallowing in self-pity is what I do best & too bad I can't grow up like that.

Let me regress to become 3 year old again. Let me reset my eyes so I have no red threads of anguish.

Let me rewind and repeat life again.