You know that feeling, when you are there and you aren’t really out there? When one moment, one very deceptive little moment makes you feel wanted. But when the deception wears off, you come to know where you really stand. When you get excited that you finally found your reason for being alive and then, in a flash, just like that, that reason ceases to exist. When your own feet don’t want to carry you further, your shoes bite your toes. When everything good that you got going in some fragment of your life goes up in a cloud like POOF!!! The emptiness inside, eating away your soul. The struggle, that’s very real. When tears flow not because you are weak, but because the pain is like a giant, devouring you whole. How does it feel to be the outsider in your own life?! Does any other hurt compare to that one?!
I’ve spent my whole life, being a stranger in my own life. Losing people I love and was afraid to lose. Getting hurt as a punishment for being nice ( no I don’t mean NICE, nice. I meant refusing to be mean even to those who deserve it). One by one, people go away. Not in death but in life. ‘Cause death would mean, a valid reason. That there was some hope somewhere. But I guess, some people are cursed this way. Doomed! Left to dwell alone. To deal with the extreme highs and lows on their own. I think either I’m cursed that way or I’m developing a bipolar disorder.