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Who am I? That's the question that's always running inside me.
I pretend to be normal, hiding my insecurities through coloring myself me
What should I do? is my positivity fake or is it a habit or is it part of me?
Idk anymore what's fake and what's the real me, no actually, is there even a real me?
How do people act in relationships? How do they talk? What are they talking about??
I want deep connection, I want our relationship to be deeper like the deeper of blackholes, I want us to be close to the point of discussing our deepest emotions."
But I know I'm empty, white and grey even black leaves me.
My brain helps me a lot to understand the hidden meaning of things but sometimes I wish I couldn't see No actually I pretended to not see it even when all these signs even when my mind realized it all still pretended like I didn't see it, I just ignore it, I ignored everything like an empty dull who's eyes are everywhere.
I'm insecure, full of insecurities, I don't love myself so how can I accept people to love me? I'm boring, a walking boredom that everyone hates.
I couldn't save myself and I probably will never, this is where my worthlessness c from.
this pattern of always disappointing myself over and over hurt me, and this smile that I showed to others returned to me like a sharp knife.
What should I do? Is it my fault? If others broke me before I even opened my eyes, is it still my fault?
No, it's my fault, Now I have a choice but still can't try to change, and I haven't even attempted it. I'll fail anyway.
Like a ship that was run by others outside and inside everything that belongs to them but then they left took everything and told me to run this ship alone.. how can I? They didn't even tell me how to, then what should I do?
I'm lost in the sea, everything seems chaos
The chaos that I hate..
I didn't have any other option than rowing
Rowing everything.. every time I do it returns against me and hurts me more
So, was it a habit, a fake, or a real thing?
Did the rowing were there or is it my imagination?
If I lose my memories someday, will I change or remain the same? Was I born like this, or did life shape me? If not, then what am I supposed to be?
It's like having puzzle pieces that don't fit together, full of contradictions. I can never have a clear vision of who I am.
I wish I were a black rose, but instead, I'm a withering gray flower lacking colors, trying to blend in with other flowers, hoping to be special like those black roses that drown in the blood of sadness
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