| — | Isaac Slade, lead singer of “The Fray” |
I just wanted someone who knew. Someone who understands. I’m trapped in my room, in this tiny slice of a world. I have a disease. Something that prevents me from living a normal life. I can’t do the things I like. I live in constant fear of everything because there’s no one who could feel the way I do. I made a friend once. I tore them from their throne of popularity and brought them into my world, but even then. They didn’t understand. They don’t feel the pain that is forces upon me. Maybe I hate myself. But the more I look at that statement, the more I see that there’s not an entire being here for me to hate. I’m hardly a human person, and I’m dying. I bought my mother a card for when I die, I even got an envelope with it. It’s stored next to my mental hospital card, the one with my patient number on it. I don’t know what a lot of the things I feel are. I can’t tell if I even can feel love anymore, or if its just a heap of uncertainty mixed with loneliness. When I try to reach out to someone, they never care. How could I expect them to, anyways. If I stopped existing, I think atleast I’d be happier. Mark and Marisa would, atleast. I’m the disappointment of the family, and its terribly obvious. Mom and Dad both have their favorites, and their all so proud of all their kids. But me, I’m just this rat that’s found a way to live in a household. They both hate me, and they both pity me. Just like the rest of the world. Yeah yeah, woe is me I’m a teenager bullshit, whatever. I have a mental disorder, possibly even a hereditary one that I just learned about from my mom. My body is so fucked up, I’m scared to even get close to a female. The worst part is, I want to tell someone about it. I want to just talk to anyone or anything about all of this. But whenever I try, they want to make it about their lives, or they flat out tell me to fuck off. Thus I’m stuck with all these bottled up feelings, left to tear up my body. The reason I got into gaming was because it was like wearing a mask. No one would know who I am, and I could lie and be anything I wanted. I have more friends that live in Europe than I do where I live. These people actually want to talk to me. These people are there when I wake up, they start a conversation and pay attention to me. And I like it. The more I talk to them, the more I realize that no one here really cares. If these people I’ve never formally met past Skype can be more friendly than the people here, than who can really be my friend? I guess I’m just ranting. Honestly, I’m just… Really upset, I guess. No matter what I do, she doesn’t want to talk. I say hi, she tells me to leave her alone. She’s the only thing in the world that could ever mean that much, but she hates me. Well, no. She has no feelings for me at all. She keeps me in a state of constant uncertainty and pain because of such. I either want closure or.. whatever the opposite is. I just want to feel a solid emotion, so I can wallow in my despair. Sometimes, I just feel like a dog in the rain, waiting for my master to open the door without realizing my master is dead. Sorry this is all posted. I just don’t want to die without some way of letting people know I existed. Just unfollow me.
I care and in return, I’m ignored. You ask for someone, and I’m always there, but in return, I’m pushed away. I’m treated like I’m worthless no matter what I do. But after everything I’ve been through, I don’t think it bothers me much. The mental hospital stole a lot of my emotions. The heart I promised you was burned at the stake.
AnonymousNo one appears to notice the dog in this. Not even the dog notices the dog. Send better stuff, Anon.
A dozen red roses will wither away given time, no matter how well you take care of them. As for music, let’s just say that it’s immortalized by those who listen to it. We give it life by listening to it, by remembering it. It will never fade away as long as there’s a human out there who’s heard a song before.
