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2.12.14

 

pest-imistic

  Ever been in a stage in life whereby you just hate single thing about yourself? The way you look, the way you speak, the way you behave, the friends you have, the family you have, every-fucking-single thing just annoys the shit out of you? Yes, I'm in that stage rn, & it sucks real bad.

  What sucks even more it's that no matter how much comforting words I hear, it's pretty much senseless, it's not registering in my mind. 'You gotta love yourself' this. This is the one thing that I got so sick and tired of hearing. I don't. I can't a single trait of me that's lovable, needless to say that I'm proud of. It just feels like I'm walking straight up to the wall and bang my own head. Dumb but true. 

  I absolutely hate the way I look, needless to say my personality. I really wish that I could talk like the way I write. I feel  like a much more interesting person when I write. Which is pretty sad, and even sadder to have people agreeing to it. That's the reason why, why I'm at the losing end. Because I can't talk for nuts. And will I ever be able to change that? I doubt so.

  Well, I'm always hoping for a change. Constantly wanting myself to change. I don't know why..I have always known to care too much into what people thought of me, I care too much...and when I decided not to care about any single shit, people around me starts to guilt trip me. So am I suppose to still give a shit? Because when I did, you didn't. Not caring feels good until the guilt tripping comes into the picture. I just can't let myself not to feel it. And I wished I could just switch it all off. A black out or something. 

  All these unknown stress been adding weights to my shoulder making me back off further than I used to. I don't want to back off, but all these emotional torture is killing me. Losing my sanity to such absurdity. How I wished I'm away, for some time, for a long time. To let me let go the weight off my shoulder and chest. 

  I just wanna leave and never come back...to find myself and to lose myself.





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