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.

I’ve never felt so alone,
Although I should have known,
That i’ll end up alone,
Here’s to the unknown.

My Obsession

I am obsessed in being whole for I am nothing more than shards of broken pieces, trying to fit together, trying to make sense, trying to put back what was broken.

But I guess, I can’t be whole again. Not when I’m thinking like this. Not with this heavy feeling in my chest that bothers me. Not when I’m letting my sadness define me.

Yes, I am sad, perhaps even clinically depressed. I find socializing a little bit tiring and draining. I am stressed with academics and there isn’t someone that I can talk to. I try to act that everything’s fine but I’m really not. I was so close to breaking down the other day. This is why I need to learn to love myself and for that I am obsessed in feeling whole, in loving myself, and finding happiness.

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