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* . °•★|•°∵ ◇ ∵°•|☆•° . *
You say you don't like the things the majority likes. But somehow you relate to every character you've ever read.
You smile when you're zoned out and remember a happy incident, And frown when the trail of your thoughts lands on a toxic one.
You say that you hate your insecurities to the core, But you end up loving them when you see them on someone else.
You say that you've been working very very hard for your dreams. But I see your body shaking half in anxiety, half in caffeine overdose.
You say you love being a woman. You say you love yourself. Although you don't have to, always, but sometimes, do you, really?
Covering your mouth and nose when you laugh, Is it really a habit? Maybe it is.
Imagining yourself skinny and prettier in your dreams, Is it really involuntary? Yeah. Might be.
Changing your voice when you think you're being loud, Is it really about etiquette? Who knows.
Stopping mid-sentence before taking a long pause, Is it really a sign of physical exhaustion? Has to be.
Extending your hand but not touching the food, Is it really instinctive? Obviously, duh.
Glancing at them and immediately looking away, Is it really a mistake? Oh for sure!
Knowing it all and still continuing to live like that, Is it really a matter of choice? Absolutely not.
Got a lot to speak. Don't know where to begin. Is it genuine? Is it stupid? Tell me it's not stupid! Tell me it's not genuine either! No way it could be this genuine when I loathe it.
I might burst if I start speaking. I want to burst. Nothing would end if I talk it out. I'm craving its end.
What would you say if I speak? I don't want to hear your replies. Please reply to me! I don't want your help to make it. Please help me out; this once!
You want to change. I do, too. Let's never change! Going all around and about; Let's return to the same!
Who could be doing this? Do they like it? Like hurting others? No one does it better. Will someone make it better?
(Part below is dedicated to someone special)
Just... What am I doing right now?
I want to paint, but I can't reach my brushes. I want to play flute, but my hands won't cooperate with the notes. I want to read, but nothing seems to be catching my attention. Even my favorite texts!
I want to cry, but the tears won't fall. I want to shout, but my voice refuses. I want to hug you real tight, but we don't share that equation.
I want to- but-
I want to close my eyes and drift away to somewhere peaceful. But where? Where will I find peace?
Nothing seems to be working out. Not even just fine. Disappointed and exhausted, I return to my social media, hoping for some pleasant distractions. Instead, I'm welcomed by yet another person painting, singing, reading, crying, shouting, hugging their loved one, and just- just being themselves.
Disappointed again, exhausted again, I return to my zone. Waiting to paint, wanting to play my flute god just pick up that damn thriller and get myself absorbed in the inked pages but- but i cannot!
I keep returning, but I do not have a home.
I want to- but I cannot.
I want to.
I really want to.
I really do.
There's a sharp pain right in the middle of my chest. My heart wants to pop out. I can't get it in control. Not only my heart. I can't control my actions.
I keep trying, and I do not fail. I never fail. But it doesn't seem like I passed either.
Everytime. Every single time, there's a tiny bit of effort, a tinier bit of flaw that remains. And I fall back.
Things fall apart.
I don't want to be that person. "OH! She's doing well, but she needs assistance, she needs guidance, then she'll be better." I don't want to be better because I can't do it. I want to be better because I want to be better.
No, don't assist me, don't guide me. I want to create masterpieces just by myself.
But if they don't guide me, I am nothing, really. I don't do well alone. I want to do well. Alone. I really do.
I want to be happy.
But I cannot.
I just cannot.
Never the first person you'd wanna text when you open your inbox. Never the first person you'd wanna believe the opinions of. Never the first one to know about any news related to you. Never the first one to receive help from a pool of humans.
Always the person, better than whom, millions exist. Always the person, without whom, your life goes on buttery smooth. Always the person, whose efforts are fine, left unnoticed. Always the first to pick up and last to drop the friends after a hangout.
