You. That's all I have to say. I can't keep up the act and pretend it's not bothering me. I won't say anything so you won't have to get mad at me again. I'm lost in my cold heart, and nobody wants to free me from my burden. All I get is fake sympathy that doesn't even feel good. It's the same thing everyday. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm such a twisted goner. Thinking... Why me?
YOU ARE READING
Blind as They See
Non-FictionThe sequel to my previous journal 'They Can't See It'.
