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I hate how awkward I am. I hate the way I feel and act around new people. I hate that I can’t make friends because of my insecurities and the fear of trusting people. I hate that I can’t open up to people about my problems, I hate that I can’t feel happy for a whole day. I hate that I have to ruin everything with my family. I hate that I’m angry and sad all the time. I hate that I can’t make my parents proud. I hate how different I am from everybody else. And most of all, I HATE what I’ve become and I don’t think my life should have turned out the way it did. 

Alone again. I fight the tears that are threatening to spill, pool in my eyes, fall down, wash all my pain away. Alone again. I take the blade. It’s been too long. Alone again. Fill the cup over and over, but leave the plate untouched. Alone again. Think and think and think and think, but do and I will die, not that I would mind. Now I’m not alone. Put away the fallen tears, the broken heart, the broken me. Fake my way through the day, until I’m alone again. But in my faulty heart I know how it always is, how it always will be. Alone is what I always am, no matter who’s around me.

Crossfade

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