I feel lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, absolutely alone and tired and afraid. Sick of this shit, sick of myself, sick of acting happy. Hate the mirrors, hate my thighs, hate my reflection, hate myself.
I raced through the streets of Orchard like how I did two years back. Memories of draggy afternoons flashed. I remember walking through the doors, putting down my bag and getting ready for work. I remember the girl who wore her uniform and not constantly think of how big her calves looked. I remember everything, just not how I got to this point. I remember the conversation from last night. It rings in my head; loud and clear. I am not attractive, Love. I feel ugly. Ugly as hell. It is almost impossible to allow someone to get emotionally close to me.
I don’t even know why I’m typing this, let alone post it. It’s like, no one needs me irl. No one notices I’m gone, not irl and definitely not on Tumblr. My worth is pathetic.
Isn’t it sad how you realise how much you have changed since three years ago? The bonds you forged; gone. The happy person you were; gone. The bodily fat that was on your body that you once loved; gone. The innocence; gone.
I used to sleep fine, eat fine, dressed fine. It doesn’t matter now how I need to perfect my eyeliner or which shoes to match my outfit. It doesn’t matter anymore. I still look extremely tired under the layers of powder. I am physically exhausted but my mind wouldn’t shut. My mind hovers between state of awakening and living in the shadows of yesterdays. I am always calculating, reviewing what I just ate or drink, questioning if I could allow myself this or that. Fucking insane, I’d say. Some days I feel fine. Most days I wished I was dead. I am only 21, but I’ve had enough. Enough of this life, enough of the perfect facade I’ve created, enough of myself. Take me away. Take me out of me. I can’t save myself from myself. I shouldn’t expect anyone to.
I'm the type of person, who likes to keep everything bottled up. I'm not the type to just break down in front of everyone. I like to put on a fake smile to let everyone know the person outside is smiling, while the person inside is hurting. Then, when I'm finally alone, that's when I can let everything out. Explaining myself is just too hard, I'd rather be alone and cry, rather than explaining myself while crying.