There are just some things that are meant to be said. Meant to be does not mean I want to have them said or I wanna say them myself.
I don’t wanna speak. I don’t want to, so I don’t. It doesn’t feel like anyone’s listening so why speak? I don’t have friends, not because no one likes me but because no one cares enough. No one knows anything about me that is of importance, except me.
It’s killing me, I can feel it softly creeping over my shoulders. Everything is getting harder to bear and it used to be so easy. I used to love, I used to laugh. Now I fake a smile and hope it passed. Depressed? Well, I guess you could say that. I don’t feel like it’s my fault really.
With supposedly best friends that forget your birthday. Who are they kidding, right? So I fake smiles, I fake laughs. They ask if I’m okay, I say I am. If I had to say every little thing that’s not okay, well, we wouldn’t have enough time for that.
That’s normal. But most people have others who care. Who love and listen. Who know what’s wrong without it needing to be said a loud. I crave for people who know things about me. More than my favorite color and my birthday. People who just stand by me and keep quiet. But people that are there for me. Always.
And I fake. I lie. It’s natural. “Yes, I’m fine don’t worry!” The act is slipping. I try try try. It never works. I need people to know those fake smiles. No one does. It’s kind of my own fault.
It’s double. The feelings. I’m mad at them even though it’s not only their fault. It’s mine as well. And I know, but still..
It doesn’t make the loneliness go. It doesn’t make things easier It never does. It feels like it’s always just me.