A tempest in the heart

I am angry and disappointed. This is the truth I am trying to ignore. I am angry and sad because I thought you would come to me. I thought you would talk to me. I thought you would be worried about me and try and reach out to me but you didn't. You didn't and I don't know how to feel if not angry and disappointed. I know you don't have it easy as of now. I know you have your head full of your problems but if I really mattered, you would have sent me a message. you would have found a way to reach out to me. You would have found a way.

My heart is heavy and full of anger. it feels as if a tempest was wrecking havoc inside of me. It is thunder and lightning and all I want to do is come to you and slap your face. I am not to be played with, I wasn't to be played with. You can slap me back, saying I made a mistake when I gave into you. I would keep telling you that those were just words and they didn't matter because nothing was done out of that. We just talked, we just exchanged words. I never truly gave myself to you and never did you. All I know is that it left a bitter taste in my mouth because I felt like I was a game for you. I was a challenge. I was supposed to be a sexcapade for you but you never got it. you never got it from me and you have no fucking idea of how happy I am that you never got /me/. 

I am watching you with contempt and disdain now that I see that you are so easily willing to ignore me. I am in the most vulnerable situation I can ever be and yet you choose not to check on me. Don't fret, I don't need you. I thought I did, I wanted you to comfort me but you refused even the slightest encouraging word. Even the simplest "How are you?". Why is that? Because you're too worried about yourself? Sure, go ahead. be worried about yourself but don't come to me and pretend you are interested or you care because you don't. I see you, I see right through you and just like I used to, I am going to walk away from you and protect myself. I need to protect my heart because you don't deserve to have it. you don't deserve to see it. you don't deserve to benefit from it. 

I don't hate you because if I did, I would have ditched your sorry ass. I am upset at you and mad and angry and disappointed and because I feel all of that, then I will ignore you, give you a taste of your own medicine up until you come talk to me. Up until I see you truly want to be with me. Up until I see you really care about me. You won't know anything because I won't talk to you straight away and I wish and swear on all the gods and the spirits who care about us, that maybe when you will try and make a move it would be too late for you. I would have found someone who would care about me. I would be happy with someone else. I am wishing it now because it would be best for both of us. you would be focused on your life and I would be on mine, with someone who would care about me the way you never really could.

I have a tempest in the heart and all I can do is to let it rage on. 

random thoughts

This it it. I call it my tragic face. I love to think that nobody would realize how bad they have hurt me if I make that face. See, it's all about intensity in the gaze. I try to convey as much emotion as I can in my eyes, letting them know how much I hate them for making me feel so helpless yet I stay regal. I chin up, my lips don't tremble. They are stiff in order to show them the disdain or the... distance I put between us.

But who am I really kidding? I try to convince everyone that my heart has not been shattered inside but I can't even convince myself that I am okay. Yet I still serve this face to anyone, because I am too proud to eventually let them know.. too blind to eventually notice, too weak to actually face it.

xxxx

..She thought it would be easy to pretend. Smiling and being polite was one thing, but none of the x-men bought her shenanigans. Asma was restless, emotionally tired and on top of all, she felt vulnerable. Too proud to speak of it out loud and scared to become a burden to her friends, she barely confessed her feelings to them. Tonight, they tried to trick her into talking to them but it turned into... a disaster. She wasn't able to say a word, she blamed herself for that but they didn't insist much. 

As usual, the idea would sink in, she knew they were there for her, they were her family. Why did she keep this habit of suffering on her own? Why couldn't she trust herself and why couldn't she give a chance to their bond? They loved her, they cared.

Once in her room, she ran her hand through her pink (yes pink) locks and tried to reason with her sick mind. Stop being so anxious, don't let it eat you up! They are here for you, take the chance! grab their friendly hand! tilting her head to the side, convinced that the best thing she could do was to actually talk to them, she pushed the door open and set herself free from her mental prison.

They were her friends, her family

xxx

...This isn’t me. This isn’t right. I can’t marry him now... It’s too early, I’m not ready

She ran away from the x-mansion, ran away from this wedding she felt was making her suffocate. Fear was overwhelming her, consuming her at this exact moment. Wasn’t a wedding what she wanted? Wasn’t marrying Steve her greatest “dream”? A dream? Listen to you speak as if you were one of these carefree human gir...ls. You dream bigger, bigger than yourself. You dream of a relative peace between humans and mutants, of a chance to live a normal life… but wasn’t all of it an illusion? She was scared, as simple as it sounded; she really was scared of the next chapter. Happiness was simply a grasp away from her but Asma couldn’t accept it. She didn’t know if she should. She softly rubbed her belly which would never bear any of his children. It was the price she had to pay to possess such a power. What if Steve wanted children? They never spoke of it. She didn’t know anymore. Don’t you deserve to be happy Asma? For once, accept you could also be happy! Asma knew it was about time, that the worst was behind them. They have been separated; they have hurt each other already. She died twice. What ELSE could have parted them away? What ELSE was she scared of? If it wasn’t for a gentle hand that squeezed her shoulder kindly, she would have melted away, drowned in her dark pool of thoughts and overwhelmed with anxiety. If it wasn’t for that friendly touch, she would have run away definitely. But that simple touch, the one from a loving hand helped her put herself together and banish away the paralyzing thoughts that tried to cripple her body with anguish and fear. Her head rested against the strong shoulders of her best friend, and she knew that she could breathe again. No more clouds in the sky, the perfect blue was blinding her with light.

What an idiot…I was born ready…I can do it. I will