I hate this feeling. I can’t understand it myself. I’m exhausted.
I guess, I’m on the more vulnerable side. I mean, he can always go home, without being clingy. I do otherwise. I want him to stay longer. Gosh I miss my family. I miss my home. I will never recover from it, I think. Gosh, this mind. How can I ever escape? I’m tired in so many ways. I mean, it’s not like I ask him every day to stay with me, I understand he’s tired now, from work, because he overworks, that’s why, but. I miss Papa. I miss Ate. I miss my happy home. And he is my escape from all of my sadness. But when he can’t stay when I need him the most, that’s when it hits me. I depend so much on others for my happiness. I can never be happy on my own.
I want to be a kid again, always having the freedom to scream and cry whenever I’m hurt. But right now, every single fucking day, I have to be strong. For my family, for me. Sometimes, I’m choked. It’s too much.
I am the epitome of a woman who is alone and lonely. My illness is incurable. My mindset. Sometimes I wish to talk to a shrink, maybe that’s the only way to feel better.
I think I might be depressed, you know. It’s like a fog. Only white fog for me, because others have it black. For me, there are bright days, and of course days like this, lonely and dry and sad. But how ever my day goes, the white fog never leaves. I even share this idea with somebody in one social site, maybe I got it from him/her. Well, that’s what I do best. Plagiarize others, even how they become happy, and so I don’t have a happiness of my own. Maybe that’s why, I’m sucking at this loneliness now, or it’s the other way around. Well, no one seems to know, I’m the strongest on the outside. I’m the happiest.
But they don’t know the intensity of my perceptions with what I’m going through. It is what I’m made up. I see and feel worse than what’s seen. But hell, they don’t notice. Why the hell should they bother? I’m a nobody, and that’s the fucking truth. Even the closest person I love wouldn’t understand me. He finds me difficult to love. And he believes that nobody else can love me aside from him because I’m that difficult. Am I? I think I am. So, maybe I’m just gonna stick with him for the rest of my life then. Only if he can handle me growing older with him.
Every morning is a struggle. People say I’m just lazy, but when I open my eyes, everything comes back, and I think, why can’t I just sleep like forever?
I miss my freedom days. Like doing the things that I like to do without thinking that my family might be hungrier and poorer than I am, like enjoying without thinking, what could my family be eating right now, or when I don’t buy something that I want because I need to save for something more important. Or thinking how can I be so selfish like this? Why am I so selfish? I am the most selfish person in the world.
God, how it breaks my soul. I feel so confused and helpless.
I just want to be a kid again. Be happy again. Become alone without feeling lonely. I was the best with that, you know, before. I don’t know where my happy me had gone. Or am I really a sad person even before these drastic changes come to torture me? I think I’m regressing. You know, the feeling when all I do was just think about the home works and the house chores that I need to finish.
But heck, people need to grow up. But I don’t want to. I’m not ready yet. God, life is hard. Growing up sucks. I wish I never wished to be a grown up because I’m a coward like that.
People say they’re sad, but sometimes they’re just tired. Maybe. Maybe I am. Or not. Whatever, Blabber.