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.


Eternal Sadness

There was nothing more profound than the sadness that she felt. It was as vast as the sky, as deep as the sea and as dark as the universe.

How can she walk around pretending she’s fine, trying not to let anyone see that all she want to do was breakdown. She tries.

She tries because they expected her to be strong. They expected her to be more than what she really is. They expected and she complied.

But at the end of the day, there was no one by her side to tell her that it’s okay to feel a sad, that it’s okay to cry. Because all she has is her self.

In response to: Profound