A part of me will always know that i’m just this big ball of sadness. That at the end of the day, I’m the one who needs to comfort my own being—my own existence. Is it really that hard to be there for me when I needed you the most? Does it take too much of your time just to ask me if i’m okay or if i need anything? When will people be there for me when I’m there for them? I’m not complaining but…. sometimes…. I wish that when people see me smile, I hope the know that all I want was to scream and cry my heart out.

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