i find it quiet funny, how miserable i am.
i hate seeing people happy, but i want to make them happy. i hate being lonely, but i always ask people to leave me alone. i hate seeing the deep scars, but i still continue hurting myself. i hate myself, but i tell others to love themselves.
i look around me, and i can't help but wonder... how the world will be, if it didn't meet me? how everything will fall into place if it wasn't me but, my twin who survived the nuchal cord? how everyone would move on, if i took my life? ... yet, here i am, typing what's going on in my head at 7:45 pm, inside my dark room with only a phone as a light, while my family call me out for dinner, me acting like i didn't hear them to avoid confronting them with my depressed and fresh wounds.
i don't know where to go anymore... i don't feel welcome anywhere, not even in my own body. i tell myself i'd be okay in the morning, sleep will make it better, but even sleep feels like a luxury i can't afford.
i'm sorry you had to read through a bit of my messed up mind. i just... need to let it out, because i know that the people who knows about me are all tired of my . even i'm tired of hearing myself talk about my bull.
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