The Room of Shattered Dreams


Browsing for recipe online, I was determined to follow my parents’ footsteps that I could be a good cook too.  I should start somewhere, it runs in the genes after all.  If my brothers could do it, I am of no exemption.  In stead of analyzing logic gates, I tried to understand the uniqueness of every ingredient and the significant role fire played in the whole process.  With a sunny face and humor, I proclaimed to my friends, “I am ready for my soon-to-be!!!”  We laughed, I made their dining experience a happy one same I usually did with my family as I grew up.  The table wouldn’t be boring in my presence.  What??? Who??? I don’t recall that girl anymore.

Shoes here, clothes there… I wanted everything in order and I must schedule cleaning every week.  No dusty room, please!!! My place should be neat and adorned with cute stuff, which defined how creative and lively I am. Always in cheap style.  Yet, it cheered me up and gave delight to my heart.  I draw, pray, read and write for extra time.  I even produce animation for fun.  Singing is not my hobby.  I have a horrible voice and I can’t hit the notes.  What’s going on?  Where all cute stuff goes?  What’s with the mess?  OMG, pedicure and manicure missing!!!  The crib of bliss turned to be a monster’s horrifying place with that awful crying and singing sounds.

What’s with the drama?  What’s with the long face?  You forgot what Papa said??? You look beautiful because you always share a smile?  What’s with the inner torture?  You are the bravest… Stop acting like you’re a drama queen!  You’re terrible in crying…

How?  I entered the room where my existence is unknown.  I have no voice.  I heard and seen, and pretended not to know even if I understood what was going on.  The door shutted down.  I tried to be welcomed but the ring leader was disgusted of me.  My head wouldn’t function and my tasks uncompleted.  I felt the torment of being there but invisible.  I should tried hard to be liked but I am bad of faking.  They all scared most of the time but I taught myself to be comfortable.  I showed who I am, which was the biggest mistake I ever did.  The chief was pissed of me and despised my presence.  Despite all his disapproval, I cared and willing to share my love.  But, the chief was headstrong and his heart sealed.  Then, he decided to fly off somewhere to be united with a goddess, the fairest and most perfect.  The festival he planned with excitement and I am not invited. It’s alright, I understand that I am not welcome at all.

Am I the one who I used to know?  Not in that room… it is the room where I am someone whom I don’t know.   I even forgot how to talk a lot and crack a joke.  I should greet everyone, not ignore them… I did or they do…. When was the last time I smiled?   When I  taught I could learn to love again, I entered inside and found myself in the room of shattered dreams.  What is loneliness? I can’t define it before but where I am now I endure its definition.  Don’t come in to the ROOM OF SHATTERED DREAMS where I am the ugliest, undesirable, horrible and the cursed overacting drama queen….


By Green Day “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”


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