Damaged

How damaged am I right now? Pretty darn damaged.

I'm so damaged that I can't even feel essential things that make you survive.

I can't feel hunger. I don't eat. And I don't feel like eating. I don't feel hungry. I don't feel the need to eat. I just eat because it seems like a good idea. And it's just a matter of time before I throw it all back out anyway.

I can't feel warmth. I feel cold. Just cold. I'm wearing a jacket. In bed, under a blanket. My room is 10 degrees higher than outside. Yet I don't feel warm. Just very very cold.

I can't feel sleepy. In fact I hate to fall asleep. I just do it because exams are near, and I need my brain to be working properly. But I'd still put it off for as long as possible. Because it's the worse feeling when you wake up, for a few seconds the world seem alright, and then when you remember it all again, your world comes crashing down around you again.

I can't breathe. Every breath hurts. Every one.

I can't think. For thinking leads to another. And to another. And will end up in the darkest place.

I can't wake up. For waking up, I have to face the world again. What's the whole point?

When you find out Santa Claus don't exist after all, what's it to you? All the promises. All the wishes. All the hope. Lost. And who would replace him? No one.

It's just a phase, right? Believing in love? Like believing in Santa Claus. It's just a phase. A childhood naivete.

It's wretched, believing in one man who you think is the one. He turns out to disappoint even more than any I've known.


I need someone to hold me now. Are you the one? No, because you're not here. I'm alone, again. Ironic isn't it when you lose someone is when you need them the most? But they're not there. Not even when they promised to be. And they've promised alot. A whole lot.

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I would've come back to you next week, with my puppy dog face, back to you. But it's ruined. You've ruined it. I am ruined.

Happy now?

Take your money. And if money buys you all of what is enough for you, then you deserve it. Every cent.

And me? I'll stay here, thank you very much. And I'll get over this. And I'll get over you.

And I'll get over love.

For if love makes me long for a bastard like that, maybe love really is stupid and senseless after all. And maybe I am stupid and senseless for thinking love ever really did exist.


LoVe~
MzP<3