Sigh

Love is when you shed a tear but still want her. It's when she ignores you and you still think the world of her. It's when she loves another boy, but you smile and say, "I'm happy for you," when all you really do is cry.

Just a little longer

You were afraid that you would disappear, that you would be lost and forgotten. I held you tight against the dark and said that I would always come for you. Then one day it happened. You were torn from my arms and vanished from this world. Maybe you don't remember my promise, but I meant every word. I hope you're not afraid, wherever you are. You don't need to be. I'm not. I will find you.

I feel contented

I feel contented to just stare at your display name even though I know you won't talk to me and I know that I don't have the guts to start a conversation with you

I miss you

Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you're doing something and wishing they were right there with you

It's happening again

You're always tired from your mind going a million miles a minute. All that really appeals to you is cowering under covers and sleeping off all your relentless, pointless efforts in trying to make everything better. You are disillusioned. Maybe you know that you can change things around, but you question whether you want to or not. Because being sad has some kind of comfort to you- because there's always that familiarity. No matter how long your sadness has been prolonged, it's known that when you revisit it, the same thoughts, feelings and actions all take place. You revisit the same place where you left off.

2:05 AM

I'm trying to sleep, but the voices in my head are too loud, and I'm remembering all these things that I've done. So I turn to my side and face the wall, and breathe slowly. Close my eyes, open them, close them once more. I see his face now, you know, the boy I told you about. Now, I know I won't be able to sleep. I suppose this is why most people are insomniacs; the voices won't go away, the memories keep coming back, and people haunt them in the darkness of the night. I turn the lights on, sit on the edge of my bed and cry. Just a little bit, just to make it easier to breathe. I turn the lights off and try to sleep again; it's going to be a long night.

I am unsure about who I am

I hate it when people judge me when I don't even know how to judge myself. Life seems so difficult when for some people it seems so easy. I feel like everyone in this world was given a manual on how to live but I wasn't given mine. I wonder why I don't fit in. These thoughts constantly haunt my mind. I hate how this world works. I hate people. I hate human nature. How are inhumane things human nature? I hate greed. I hate love. I hate hate. I wish life would just slow down.

I hate the fact that I think I might be deep when I type things like this. Are these actually my thoughts? or am I trying too hard to write something deep? I think I am incapable of feeling deep emotions. I've never cried at a funeral. I've never been happy at a wedding. I rarely smile. I feel very shallow. I hate posers. I feel this makes me a poser myself. I don't know why I'm writing my thoughts up here. Maybe it is to vent... maybe it is because I want to impress classmates. I'm not sure. I hate myself. I feel so conflicted. I wish the world was easy and I could just find out who I am. I plan out conversations that I might have with people so I can try to be less awkward around those people. I just don't really know what to do. I truthfully hope no one reads this, however I also want people to read this. I feel very nervous right now. I am conflicted whether or not to show or censor out all of these words. I don't think I've ever told anyone what is typed up here. I will probably end up not censoring these words. I hate the fact that I hope people will be impressed by this.

I hate that I want to impress people. I hate the fact that I feel the need to impress people. I hate it when people look at me weird. I hate how ignorant people are. I hate it even more when I am ignorant. What is wrong with me? Why did God put me on Earth? Ugh... I don't like me. Does anybody else analyse themselves like this? Is something wrong with me because I do? Is it sad that I find comfort that I characterise myself as insane so that i have a reason for who I am? Is it sad that I have all these thoughts in me?

Why do you care?

3:42 AM

You sit on your front porch, watching the street light across the street. It flickers once. It's 3:42 am and you just realised that even though your family loves you, the only thing you need is someone to care for, someone to love.
So you sit on your front porch, watching the light. You might smoke a cigarette or two, but you don't really need them. You watch the tree near the street light sway in the wind, scared of life.
You might have had a girl in your life once, but it soured and went wrong. It might have been your fault, but odds are that it wasn't. Odds are is that she dumped you, because being with you made her depressed. Then you realised that you just lost a great chance to change your life around.

So you sit outside your front porch. You watch the street light across the street. You might shed a tear or two, but this isn't a physical sadness that can be purged. This is a soul-crushing, black abyss kind of sadness. And you are scared and alone, all you want is someone to look at you and say: "Everything will be okay. Come with me"

Instead, you sit on your front porch. You watch the street light. And you die inside

I am scared because I don't know what I'm feeling

It is anger and it is confusion and it is compassion in the purest form I can feel. It is elite and it is strong and it is the feeling of a guardian and it is the feeling of burden. It is selflessness and selfishness and jealousy, and it is possession. It is sadness, disappointment, and it is adortion, it is there and I know it is because I can just tell by looking at you...

I don't care anymore.

If I sit in my room all day doing nothing, there are no repercussions. For whom do I live? No one cares. No one depends on me. Nothing is worth it. There is nothing, only an emptiness that cannot be filled with video games and funny pictures, only masked by. And no one else seems to care, let alone notice my mental torment.

I want to die, but my life does not give me a reason to end it. The absence of a reason to end a life should never bring its demise. I feel like I want to break someone's heart, or get a terrible disease, or commit a violent crime just to have a motivation to tie the noose around my neck. But there is nothing... only a crushing depression brought about by my own admission.

I'm a fucking unicorn

I don't belong to a large or popular group, I'm not a nerd, I don't follow anything devotedly, and anime confuses me. I'm not a jock; I'm not good enough at any sports. I'm not massively intellectual; mainly have a strong sense of common sense that transfers over to some schoolwork. But, to those I know, I always have to be the cheerful guy, the one people tell their problems to. I have to remain the stable one that will always do what he can to help those around him, even if he knows they'll just ignore him later. I have my life sooo much better off because of my material possessions and my "happy family". I can't ever complain, or people call me spoiled or inconsiderate. I have my own problems. I have absolutely no personality. I base most things I do on what people around me do, and can never be the first to do anything. I rarely get invited to do anything, and I have only about 4 friends who like to spend time with me, and I don't like taking risks at all. I am incredibly lonely almost all of the time, have parents who think I'm completely fine and I end up spending most of my time playing video games, or on the computer to pass the time. The days blend into each other, just one more preset period of time before I can go to university and hopefully start a fresh, while still knowing in my heart that I am still going to be the same outcast I am now. And after all this, I still have to force myself up in the morning to walk outside and try to be the stoic one who can solve everyone's fucking problems because, after all, apparently I'm the fucking stable one.