Distance, what a good word to mention about my relationships or connections with friends, family and also the one I like.
People are always just like coming and going in my life. I have tons of good and great friends, more than I can comprehend sometimes. I am not saying about that I don't have time to hang out with each of them. Instead, it is more about who I can truly share my story to; of course, they also show the interested to listen, to understand and to know as well.
I don't want to tell anyone; I try my best to escape from the eyes of others. I don't want them to know that I am not doing alright. I am willing to admit here, I am not happy. The longer the distance between me and those who I love and I care, the deeper the emptiness swallows me. It could possibly my depression. I used to not telling people about it. I don't like it. It exhausts me. I don't want talk to people. I don't find my existence among people. The world is willing to listen to those who don't even care about how others feel but except themselves. Will the world listen to me?
I care about people, I care about their feelings, but the world doesn't hear me.
I am discouraged when I hear my heart beating; because here is too quiet and cold. I hear well to any movement of my body. This quietness is also swallowing me.
I remember I have said before already; I really want to leave. I want to go to a place where nobody knows me. So that I can be selfish, but this kind of selfishness will not bother anyone, because I don't know anyone; they don't know me either.
I want to give up; I am just very tired. My adaptability is weaker than it used to be. My smile is fake; I don't even want to look at the mirror.
I was once asked about the purpose of my life. Nine years ago, I answered without any doubt; I said I wanted to be happy. Now, I still want it. I want to have it.
What am I thinking?
People are always just like coming and going in my life. I have tons of good and great friends, more than I can comprehend sometimes. I am not saying about that I don't have time to hang out with each of them. Instead, it is more about who I can truly share my story to; of course, they also show the interested to listen, to understand and to know as well.
I don't want to tell anyone; I try my best to escape from the eyes of others. I don't want them to know that I am not doing alright. I am willing to admit here, I am not happy. The longer the distance between me and those who I love and I care, the deeper the emptiness swallows me. It could possibly my depression. I used to not telling people about it. I don't like it. It exhausts me. I don't want talk to people. I don't find my existence among people. The world is willing to listen to those who don't even care about how others feel but except themselves. Will the world listen to me?
I care about people, I care about their feelings, but the world doesn't hear me.
I am discouraged when I hear my heart beating; because here is too quiet and cold. I hear well to any movement of my body. This quietness is also swallowing me.
I remember I have said before already; I really want to leave. I want to go to a place where nobody knows me. So that I can be selfish, but this kind of selfishness will not bother anyone, because I don't know anyone; they don't know me either.
I want to give up; I am just very tired. My adaptability is weaker than it used to be. My smile is fake; I don't even want to look at the mirror.
I was once asked about the purpose of my life. Nine years ago, I answered without any doubt; I said I wanted to be happy. Now, I still want it. I want to have it.
What am I thinking?
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