Remember this.
I don’t have any relation ships like this, with anyone around.
I am useful some moments, but not personable. Not really. and I think that’s what makes people want to care. How well they can relate to you. But I’m, hindered, I think too much and then I think, why do people say simple things in reply to a question as mundane or sarcastic as “How are you?” So whenever someone asks me, How are you? I think, Tell them you’re fine, and they’ll ask again tomorrow.
So I say I’m okay. And then it happens again.
But I’m not okay. I’m losing a lot of battles right now. And seeing hidden meanings in meaningless gestures, and reading to much into things because I’m apart. Because I’m an observer, I don’t react the right way, and I tend to say absurd things and get strange looks, and the worst part is when you hear the people you work with talk about each other and you’re never mentioned because you’re nothing but polite and a little awkward.
The kind of person who has no outwardly bad traits. She’s not interesting, she’s not useful or meaningful or someone you’d be interested in knowing.
So there it is. She thinks too much, she hasn’t any friends. Her family lives far away. Her respite comes on the weekends. She doesn’t see the future as a work in progress. She watches the news and can’t decide whether to empathize with people or to distance herself even more from these maniacal crazy creatures who can’t even function properly.
There’s never been any reason to die. I just get the feeling that the way I am is truly my personality and I don’t think I’d like me if I were someone else.
I understand posts like this. People aren’t writing these things for other people. They’re writing them because it’s what they think. There is no real empathy. I’m being convinced slowly that the world’s a stage. Emotion is a multipurpose drug.
I sometimes nurture a growing emptiness. It’s echoes whisper that there is no hope for anyone,that we all killed ourselves a long time ago and emotion fills us up with life but it’s false. emotion is kindling, we’re wavering flickers of who we were.
(via ahumblesspare)






