I wish I could be honest even here...

&amp;#x200B;

About my feelings,

about how I spent my day,

about me.

&amp;#x200B;

All these lies my hands type without a second thought...

&amp;#x200B;

I often wonder if anyone will ever love me for who I really am.

&amp;#x200B;

I dont even know which version is true...

I dont even know myself.

&amp;#x200B;

I feel hollow,

very hollow.

&amp;#x200B;

But the thing with emptiness, it's just always so heavy even if it carries nothing.

Not quite sure about it carrying nothing but what I'm sure of, is that it's everything there is to think of, that my cowardice made me run from.

&amp;#x200B;

Running away isn't fun.

Though figurative, it makes you forget what's specifically chasing you at the moment but then turn it into a thousand weight.

It'll later on turn into an unknown blurry-faced monster chasing you, the confused you that forgot why it was even there... Why it all even get there.

Running away is shitty,

But one runaway is me.

&amp;#x200B;

Not crying makes me heavy.

Crying makes me feel pathetic.

Pretending to be the happy-go-fuck-all me is something I don't really enjoy. 

It's fake and even more unsatisfying than just feeling what I'm supposed to feel. 

Feeling what I'm supposed to feel makes me look more of the loser I already am.

It's cycle is always that way.

I might forever live in an ocean of lies I, myself created.

&amp;#x200B;

To be perfectly honest, I might have not truly attached myself to anyone at all.

I have no way of telling if all the feelings I've told people I have for them are real. I really don't know.

I am very indecisive, that's one fact.

Indecisive and heavily mentally ill, as I often self-diagnose.

&amp;#x200B;

I used to wish I wasn't me, but I now realized how stupid that sounds.

It's like selfishly praying for somebody else to take over the misery I, may or may not, caused by myself alone.

It feels like I'm degrading my already low true profile.

It will also be very embarrassing for me, for various reasons.

I now wish that no one ever finds out who I truly am.

&amp;#x200B;

How will I ever know if my happy is true...

&amp;#x200B;

I used to be so fascinated with writing.

Lifts a lot of weight off my chest.

It's the only true thing I do... Well, half of them are at least.

It used to be my go-to self-therapy, but now, right now is different.

Today in particular is not as it usually goes. 

I still feel the way I felt before I wrote everything down...

&amp;#x200B;

Dying is something only I can decide for myself.

So I am not here to ask for empathy, and even so, I doubt it will change how I feel right now.

I am not asking to be stopped in whatever may come in mind later on.

I am just here to write, as I would often do. 

&amp;#x200B;

\-faz.