It’s one of those times, I guess. The time when I feel like everything is too much. That there’s too many problems to face. That the stress is messing with my mind. That my sanity is slipping and I’m a moment away from falling apart
It’s one of those times when I want to puke because I can’t cope with the pressure. That I can’t even form a coherent sentence to communicate what I feel and instead just curl up and cry. That I could scream and throw tantrum all I want but no one would give a shit anyway.
It’s one of those times when everyone is busy, too caught up with their own life that they can’t seem to spare me some thoughts. That I shouldn’t ask for help because it will only be a burden, and it’s not like they would even listen. That I should just keep my silence and let them be because my problem is my own and I should not drag others down with me.
It’s just one of those times when I’m feeling so fucking lonely, abandoned, and hopeless.
And oh darling, I wish you could see me breaking down as my thoughts eat me alive from the inside.
I wish you would care, darling.
But I don’t think you do.
À la mort,
Wishful thinking, unsaid pleas, silent cries – they’re all too familiar now.