I feel like an idiot.
I don’t want to talk anymore.
I had a sudden fear of talking now.
My words used to be like a bible to certain people.
But now, my words just seem like radio broadcast.
Listen for the sake of listening.
And the more I say, the more paranoid I seem.
And the more miserable I look.
After all, whatever stuff that I mentioned before,
and fought so hard for will all crumble into bits at the end of the day.
It will all turn to dust, like never existed.
Just sharing my unhappiness makes me look dumb to everyone.
I will stop being a crazy girl
and be upset about anything.
I’ll just smile for everyone everyday.
Since being unhappy will no longer get me understanding.
I don’t have to live like this anymore.
I was blinded by everyone’s angelic pretence.
Life is good but man makes it cruel.
And I am standing in ruins now.
There is no light to this pain as I live in self-pity.
I will stop yearning for better outcome.
I will stop thinking of pure happiness.
I will stop thinking of myself.
I will stop thinking.
And suddenly this one sentence makes sense to me:
“I live because I live.”
There’s no meaning to it.
I just live.
Night has grown long and cold for me.
And the water trace down the contours,
marking through sorrows.
So helpless.
*blank*
...
No I can’t!
I don’t even have the courage to drown in self-pity.
I’m not helpless.
I am useless, beyond anything could help.
I’m a burden.
I’m tired.
