I was born to be a calm and reserved person. But they didn’t know that I actually had such a messed mind.
Here I am, reading a book. Today I wasn’t feeling that well, but again, I have no one to tell. I wonder, how does it feel when you have someone to share all of your stories. It must be nice, at least you will not keep them alone and have somebody knows about the real you. I do have friends, but I don’t think they’re ready to hear my stories. No, I don’t need a bunch of friends like many people said.
I think there’s no good if you have many friends but they are all nothing but just some people. One is enough, really. I really need that one person to be my person. I want someone to be that kind of person. It’s always like this. Thinking to myself about something that sounds impossible for me. My gloomy feelings always come in and out.
They keep fading and come again. I still haven’t found a reason to stay alive. Not like I really need it or something. At least… I have a proper reason to keep living. The reason to stay alive is to find the reason itself tomorrow, does that sound good enough? But if I think about it again, it doesn’t fit me. It’s not like somebody ever questioned or will ask that question to me.
Even if I don’t have any reason to stay alive, it’s not like I’m going to quit or anything. I’ll stay alive, that’s what I’ve been thinking about. But there is also a part of me that feels like want to die soon. This gloomy feeling of mine… Somebody told me that I can tell them if something ever went wrong or when I’m not feeling alright, but I will feel bad because I think it will just burden them more. So I don’t open my mouth even when I feel like I really need somebody to listen to me.
It’s really stressing me out. I know that I’m just overthinking about it. Again, this is my weakness. I care too much, after all.