Bad Times

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And, no matter how hard I try or how often I am there for others, I unfailingly find myself alone when negativity is choking my lungs or when my mind is racing with malevolent musings abundant of destruction.

Maybe the very reason I label it a 'bad' time is because there is no one to hold my hand, to strengthen my heart, to help me pick myself after I fall in depths of disappointment or to love me when I glare at myself with spite. It isn't the situation that hurts, it's the absence of someone you'd want by your side. It is labelled bad, because not only do I find myself drowning in infinite silence, but I also see these people, people that I once called my own, watching me struggle; watching the strong one fight for her breath. After all, no one ever told them that the strongest ones need a rescue too, that the tough ones also face the stigma of being fragile.

There is something extremely melancholy and 'bad' when you struggle to walk around the very place you call your home,when regret and grief sucks out all the air in the room, leaving you with nothing but teary eyes and struggling lungs.

But there is something even worse when you beg your people to just stay by your side, to make you forget about the pain, to just talk to you, about the universe, or the stars, or the flower that blooms in your backyard, or the things that make you human; but all they have for you is a polite rejection, unapologetic eyes, and a fake excuse of not having time, further sucking you in this downward spiral.

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