And there are these days, when I cannot stop myself from writing, where the ink from my pen bleeds out as easily as the tears from my eyes. On such days, when there is nothing but emotions that keep me company, I write and write and write, until all feeling vanish and my heart is as empty as the ink bottle. I crave for these days, the days I feel something, ANYTHING, and write while wondering that how can someone like me feel all of this. These writings remind me I'm human when I feel like a demon, they make me feel normal when I feel like a crazy-faced doll.
But then there days, the majority, where I feel nothing. I'm numb to everything and I'm rude, I joke and I smile and I act funny; I do all of this while my heart cries and face laughs. On these days, I'm not the emotional mess I really am. I am no trouble, no drama, nothing. I am nothing. Nothing, but a fake person; faking my emotions and myself. Fake, fake, fake.
And it doesn't come to me as a surprise when people like this fake version better than the real me, with fear in my heart and tears in my eyes. People like fake.
YOU ARE READING
The Contradiction
No FicciónA place where all the darkness brings you light. A place where all the loneliness gives you a sense of belonging. A place where death talks to bring you life. A place where you walk alone with everyone walking the same way. A place of contradiction...
