As I sit here typing this, I know nobody is going to see this ever. I know nobody is going to read this words, unless is me in a couple of years when I remember I wrote this.
I needed to dump this here, in a forgotten place. That’s exactly where I feel. In a place so lost and forgotten, there’s barely any light left in here. I can hardly see where I’m walking, what I’m moving towards. Is there anything even worth walking towards? Or is this all there is?
I feel so unbearably alone in here. I don’t know if I put myself here or the circumstances. I’ve always enjoyed being alone, but I’ve never felt so lonely before. What happened I ask myself all the time. What am I doing to be in this place so empty. I swear, I’m trying to change things. I swear. I swear to anyone that listens, I’m not just walking mindlessly in the dark. But I can’t seem to find the path to where I was before. Before everything turned so lonely, so very painful. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong, I always feel like I should know but I don’t, I don’t.
I feel like with every step I make, I hurt. I hurt someone, and I hurt myself. My parents are in such pain, they can’t stand the sight of me, I hurt them by just being, we hurt each other by just existing and I have no escape from this, no friends, nobody to call that would understand, what happened I ask myself all the time. What. Happened.
I feel so unwanted, I feel such pain and numbness at the same time. I think I’m starting to get use to the pain in a way. To the anguish, to seeing them hurt like this and blaming me, I believe them. I always believe them. Today they told me these exact words: “You don’t deserve all the love and sacrifice we’ve given you.” I believe them.
I’m an only child you know. That’s why I got use to being okay by myself. Before my head wasn’t as poisonous as it is now, I used to be okay, I used to be happy, I used to feel loved, I used to have friends.
Funny I wasn’t going to be in this world by myself, I was going to have not one but two siblings. I think how that would’ve been all the time, maybe they would’ve understood. Maybe it wouldn’t be this lonely. But my mom wasn’t ready, and she had two abortions.
Sometimes all I do is envy them. I wish they were here instead and not me.
Maybe this is it, I need to get use to the pain, the pain of walking. But sometimes I just want it to stop. I’m begging it to stop hurting. I can’t keep wlaking like this.
