左边的车坐位
走过与你邂逅路，
望望左边，
空的。
我曾捉着不放，
我不会让你下车的。
可你挣脱了我的手，
开了门，
下了车，
自行走了。
我放慢了车速，
希望你会回头，
可你头也不回，
似乎忘了我们走过的路。
发觉，
你竟然走得，
比我开车还快，
而左边的坐位，
依然空着。
That Sea Raging in Me
Even as I'm writing this, I am so tempted to pretend everything is alright going on in me. As this may be read by people, a great part of me wants to pretend that everything is going alright. But if I am to be real, I need to stop pretending that I am okay with all that comes crashing on me. I think I've been told so many times that I should keep my anger and pride in check, I begin to believe that I have no right to feel angry. I must put up the kind, compassionate, gentle side of me even when within me, my anger rages. I'm supposed to swallow all the "unloading" people give me. Why does it feel like I am constantly the one who is at fault: that I'm not gentle enough, not respectful enough, not humble enough, not wise enough, not compassionate enough? That I must be gentle, be wise, be respectful, even when I am accused, wronged and misunderstood? Why? Do I have no right to express the first emotion that comes to me? Do I have no right to be hap
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