What is wrong with me? I asked myself.
I wasn't surprised by the countless answers in front of me. I'm not perfect, eyes are tired, smiles are awful, skin is gray. I move like a storm and not a graceful ballerina in a world class ballet. My words are murmurs you wouldn't want to hear. My presence is unwanted like the Monday. My laughs would always fade the moment I realize that I'm not okay.
What is wrong with me?
Every time I give my everything to certain people and situations, I always end up being rejected, unwanted, always inadequate. For others, what I did was too much. But for those people and circumstances that I'm trying to please, I'm always not enough. It happens most of the time, when I thought I gave my best but it turns out it's just a mess. Perhaps, I'm holding my hopes too high. Daydreaming about people appreciating my efforts and time.
What is wrong with me?
I don't know how to make friends. I am not funny. I always make mistakes and I am a burden you wouldn't want to carry. Most importantly, I'm not a princess in a fairytale you envy. Nor a jem you'll treasure forever. I'm not your favorite melody. Not a somebody, I'm just.. nothing but a bunch of chaos and misery.
Rain
YOU ARE READING
HER JOURNAL
NonfiksiIt includes real life situations and events. A glimpse of HER thoughts. Contains poems, quotes and prose. Welcome to HER world - a concoction of poetic sentiments and confessions drizzled with grayish clouds of chaos dusted with fragility and ardor.
