i exist.

by some horrible, horrible way, i still exist.

and i hate it.

but as much as i want to let that very life slip through my fingers; as easy as it sounds to let go and say a final good riddance to this screwed-up world, death eludes me every time i search for it, and it frustrates me to no end.

my mind is always too scared, too anxious, babbling a mile a minute about nonsensical things i should care less about. i always wish it would just

shut up.

that would be nice.

it's funny. i can't even begin to understand what keeps my heart working and bursting with emotions too bright and too dark all at once. they should have put a warning sign on that goddamned organ, because then i would know to stay away from myself.

people think i care too little. that everything's always about me. that i'm selfish. and that's fine, except for one small thing—

i care too much.

and i don't even get it. we live only to say our eventual goodbyes to people that we care about. if we meet someone, we'll part. there's nothing secure i can hold on to; only the fact that people will continue to leave and that i am lonely.

i've learnt before that as humans, our inherent nature is to be selfish.

yes. that's true. i live and hurt people because i live. all i know how to do is ruin and ruin, like an uncontrolled storm that tears through a room without a reason and destroy everything people care for.

it's not on purpose. a hundred apologies come out of my mouth every time, but they go unheard. people don't care about flimsy "sorries".

in the end, nobody wanted me.

i don't know why i wanted to live in this world in the first place. in a world where i fall for stupid lies and live through suffocating days filled with gasoline and watch the cursed handcuffs over my wrist tighten with each passing moment.

god, i wish i could just laugh my troubles off like how others do.

what's the point of it? falling down over and over again until you can never get up again because your knees are too bruised and battered; becoming a person someone's tried to mould you into and breaking again and again—

all that i'm left with is to clutch my bleeding heart with with the faint hope that those feelings extinguish one day.

but they make it so confusing. they confuse me with their smile and bright grins—because it's then that i feel safe, welcome. i can smile with them.

and do i really deserve it?

i've been waiting for them to leave for ages. for them to finally get sick of me and throw me aside, just like everyone else, but they just stay. they're always there, not in a bad way, and they regard me as a friend, like they're going to stay.

but i'm on edge. their words, to me, are sometimes filled with malice. the sound of their breathing puts me on edge.

nobody wanted me. i don't see why it would change.

they hurt me with their words. i don't deserve any of it, so please stop.

if i'm living in a world blind to my demise, then i wish every bit of it would just disappear.

too bad, i laugh in fate's face. no matter how many times people leave me behind, i don't exactly care anymore.

too bad, fate. i'm used to being lonely.

you've killed me long ago.