[ Drained ]
It's 1.09am on the 6th September of 2014, of a wet Friday night //
I've been thinking and thinking and never stop thinking. Thepotential truth it brings is terrifying and saddening to the extent that I didn't wish to be born. I'm afraid I'm going back to what I'm feeling few years back. Disconnected, discontent, despair and utterly pathetic.
All my life, I've made a point to be someone significant in people's life, much like Augustus mentioned in The Fault In Our Stars. But I never wanted to be famous. I couldn't care less of the fame and publicity. I just want to be remembered.. in a positive way. I guess, to achieve this, I would be a better friend. Maybe I could achieve this by putting their needs over mine. I don't even care if they're using me. I was so blinded by the need to be remembered that I was willing to cut out my limbs and put them up for use.
Do not get me wrong from this post. I do NOT resent my friends. If you really know me, it would be difficult for me to having a sort of resentment of more than a few hours of someone that I personally know. And I will never ever hate that sort of feelings for people that I've called my friends. But I'm just mad at myself. I've been wanting to remembered so much, particularly with this method, that I've forgotten to be myself. And that when people leave, I've hurt myself so much that it's not only hard to stand up, but it's physically and mentally killing me. The phrase "death by a thousand cuts" suits perfectly to this situation. I'm really sorry guys.
Few years back, when there was an inevitable change in how things were to be, I got so upset that tears were dropped and blades were drawn and life were clinging to it's dear self. Oh how ironic that is. And to be honest, I still never gotten over the fact of the change. I don't have a clear answer to what but ever since this, I felt really drained. It's not the normal drained where a good's night sleep is all it takes to be feeling dandy all over again. But after a few months, I felt better and I thought that was it.
Oh was I wrong. It happened like once in a few months. Now I seem to be in the "cancerous" stage of it. It's 9 months into the year, and there has not been one day where I'm not feeling drained. It's like something took the life out of me and all I'm left is a being with no life and no soul. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe that's just what I am from the day of the birth on the 11th of April, 1996. Maybe.
To be honest, I'm so sick of people leaving that I don't even bother anymore. I kept myself to only the people I assume would stay in order to not get hurt. Maybe that's why I tell people I'm the weirdest of the weird and I don't think you want to be friends with me. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of meeting new people. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of living.
Living hurts.
Living alone hurts.
I'm going to die alone.
Then what is the use of living?
It's sad really. Why is life so hard? I know it's selfish for me to say this when there are tons of lives out there a thousand times worse than mine but maybe they should have this life and maybe I would be better off , off. Maybe that is what the world needs. A world with me off.
It's 1.37am.
The rain seemed to stop. The chill in the air seems to wade. My eyes are slowly giving up on me just as my heart had. Soon after, maybe my lungs will follow suit. Sleep is seemingly to be inevitable. With tears rolled and thumping chest, I go to bed dejected, pathetic and worthless.
I've been thinking and thinking and never stop thinking. The
All my life, I've made a point to be someone significant in people's life, much like Augustus mentioned in The Fault In Our Stars. But I never wanted to be famous. I couldn't care less of the fame and publicity. I just want to be remembered.. in a positive way. I guess, to achieve this, I would be a better friend. Maybe I could achieve this by putting their needs over mine. I don't even care if they're using me. I was so blinded by the need to be remembered that I was willing to cut out my limbs and put them up for use.
Few years back, when there was an inevitable change in how things were to be, I got so upset that tears were dropped and blades were drawn and life were clinging to it's dear self. Oh how ironic that is. And to be honest, I still never gotten over the fact of the change. I don't have a clear answer to what but ever since this, I felt really drained. It's not the normal drained where a good's night sleep is all it takes to be feeling dandy all over again. But after a few months, I felt better and I thought that was it.
Oh was I wrong. It happened like once in a few months. Now I seem to be in the "cancerous" stage of it. It's 9 months into the year, and there has not been one day where I'm not feeling drained. It's like something took the life out of me and all I'm left is a being with no life and no soul. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe that's just what I am from the day of the birth on the 11th of April, 1996. Maybe.
“So please try not to hate me. I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you realize. Which is precisely why i do not want you to hate me. Because if you were to do that, i would really go to pieces.”
| — | Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood |
To be honest, I'm so sick of people leaving that I don't even bother anymore. I kept myself to only the people I assume would stay in order to not get hurt. Maybe that's why I tell people I'm the weirdest of the weird and I don't think you want to be friends with me. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of meeting new people. Maybe that's why I'm afraid of living.
Living hurts.
Living alone hurts.
I'm going to die alone.
Then what is the use of living?
It's sad really. Why is life so hard? I know it's selfish for me to say this when there are tons of lives out there a thousand times worse than mine but maybe they should have this life and maybe I would be better off , off. Maybe that is what the world needs. A world with me off.
It's 1.37am.
The rain seemed to stop. The chill in the air seems to wade. My eyes are slowly giving up on me just as my heart had. Soon after, maybe my lungs will follow suit. Sleep is seemingly to be inevitable. With tears rolled and thumping chest, I go to bed dejected, pathetic and worthless.
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