It is not
in fact okay
to leave myself behind
hoping someone will find me
Past few weeks are killing me slowly. I’m not seeing any worth in my existence, but I am too afraid to end it all.
It never leaves, right? This feel of being worthless. I thought I managed to hide it, like a needless book forgotten in an old library. But the library called me and while revising I found it again – this ugly feeling. Of self-hatred.
I’m mentally abusing myself every single day. How I’m not good enough, I don’t work enough, I’m not pretty enough, I am not enough… in general.
My own insecurities are making me wish to be somewhere else, at this right moment. In a place where all my hard work will actually mean something.
The worst feeling? That I do my best, going days and weeks without proper sleep, putting my best effort. And then to find out that the people, who are supposed to be with me, don’t care at all. I should’ve learnt my lesson already, but I always try to believe there’s good things everywhere.
My past few weeks are monstrous. I know. I find myself crying for no reason. Or for the stupidest reason. And I don’t want to be like this. I want to go forward. I don’t want to be afraid to be myself anymore.
The count of people who actually sensed that I’m not okay and cared? Zero.
But that’s okay.
Or that’s the phrase I’m telling myself
Over and over again
In order to believe
That somehow, in a strange way…