lil’ diary

just a place where I can express myself or whatever.

[feelingzsvck]

my eyes have shed tears and the snake that lay beneath your tongue shed its skin.

You’ve hissed at me with your words but your new skin does not contribute to a new you, because a snake sheds its skin, but regardless of its new skin it is still a snake.

[feelingzsvck]

“I only care about one thing; being able to look you in the eyes and smile, because only then I’ll know, you aren’t the cause of my pain anymore, and I’ve moved on.”

-feelingzsvck

[feelingzsvck]

15.11.17 11:40 pm

I have taught myself to truly hate, whether it be others or myself.

I am a very complicated person. I understand, but I don’t. I love, but I don’t. I have good intentions, but I don’t.

I am not a good person, nor am I the bad. I am not hot or cold, I am lukewarm. I have bad intentions, and I have good.

I feel like I do not know who I am, and that is a preference. I am afraid of hating even my true self, so everyday I live a lie.

Truth is I am constantly trying to be liked, to be seen as the protagonist, because I lack the attention I crave. I want the attention, but I don’t. I offer that attention to others, pass amazing and fulfilling opportunities to others, not because I think I don’t deserve them - I really do, but because by offering people what I could have, what I want, I feel as though I could please them, and that I will feel fulfilled. But I am not.

Truth is I am stuck in this spiral of constant self-hate and it is suffocating. I constantly want to feel loved, I push away the people that truly love me to satisfy and fulfil others that will never throw pebbles for me, let alone rocks.

I am seen as a joke. People - family, friends, teachers, you name it. People feel ashamed when they look at me, not because they have hurt me beyond imagination, but because to correlate with an abomination like myself is something to be ashamed of.

My entire existence is an embarrassment in itself. I am always paranoid and always fearful that someone is trying to intentionally hurt me, I am sometimes happy, sometimes that paranoia shrinks a little, but it never really is all the way. Kind of like when you are creating a piece of art, and you give up on it halfway through.

And funny thing is, nobody knows I feel this way. Because it is embarrassing, not for me, but for them.