I need to feel anything. Anything else is better than this. This hollow, bland, almost nothingness inside. Inside this rotten heart.
This old beaten up heart with nothing to hold on to. To anyone who care, who once cared, or will care. Please take me inside your warm embrace. Embrace this lonely, sour soul inside me. I have nothing to offer but every broken pieces of mine. But at least they’re mine.
I have no right to call anything as mine. Because I will never be owned by no one. So what gives me the right to say anything, or anyone mine?
I want to make my loved ones happy, nothing else. When I failed to do just that, I’m a failure. When they’re unhappy, and pointed out to my face, I get upset and want to hurt myself, badly. When they compare me with anyone who’s better, I want to crawl under my blanket and never want to come out again, ever.
The last thing I want in life is to be anyone’s burden, anyone’s responsbility. I’m not a charity case, not a damsel in distress. The last thing I want is to be rescued.
I’ll do my own rescuing, thank you very much. I’m pathetic, I know that. But not that pathetic.
Picture was borrowed from here.