I love the feeling of darkness – I love the comfort it brings and the pain that it releases out from my system. In the dark, I cry – I’d rather not show it to people. I’d act like I am okay, but I am definitely not. And it’s real. The pain of being alone is real.
I have everyone, but it doesn’t mean that everyone would want to help. No one is here to perfectly understand what I am feeling and I perfectly know that. I am just another person in this world, and everyone has his own problems. I choose not to reach out because I don’t want them to think about my misery. And if there is someone who would want to listen, would he sympathize? Would he be able to take away the pain?
I am afraid that the things that make me happy would just be ordinary things. It’s much scarier to feel that than for these things to completely disappear. This means that there is nothing to look forward to, nothing to keep me going.
I am like this because I choose to be alone, to pretend that I am okay outside. No one knows what I am feeling. But myself.
I am losing strength because people do not believe in me and my potential; that there are people out there that I trust but they keep on failing me. They know that what they do would only benefit them. People are selfish. I am accepting that reality. No one genuinely cares.
When people say they know, but they don’t. And when time comes that they know, it’s too late. When they thought that they lost nothing, they lost twice as much. Because nice people like me get tired also. I get tired of being stepped on because I have no title. And compared to them, I am just nothing. I am a peck of dust.
Think lowly of me for all that you want, but don’t come crying when I am done.
Don’t cry when I am finally gone.