Lost

I'm tired of being strong, of acting tough, of not able to break down completely when I want to, of smiling when I have no intention to, of laughing out loud to cover my sadness, of repressing my emotions and trying to erase unwanted memories, of being unable to have good nights' sleep, of being unable to be myself.  

Why did I end up helping others patching their wounds while mine are left untended to? Why did my wounds unable to heal by themselves? Why did they end up deeper and deeper? Why did my "whys' never have answers? When can I sleep peacefully without being disturbed by haunting dreams?

I tried to believe that Universe has its own reasons for those things that happened to me. But why am I feeling more lost that ever? Why am I feeling lonelier when I'm surrounded by people? Why am I attacked with sudden sadness every time I laughed hard?

Darn it, please end this for me. 

Still Alive

A lot of stories are meant to remain secret.

Even if there were not secrets, they were not meant to be told to the public. 

And yes, I have many of those stories, remained untold. I want to tell, to have someone to know, to understand, to relate to me, to feel my feelings or at least, to listen to me.

But people judge easily, don't they? I trust my own fears more than anyone else in this world, and therefore I never tell my stories.

It's a burden, bearing all those emotions that could not be revealed, and what more they would not be revealed either. I don't want anybody to sympathise me, and that is why I never tell my stories. And oh my how they grow inside me, threatening to explode every single minute I breathe, every single second my heart beats. I don't know whether I should consider myself lucky or not, as I barely escape the outbursts of my emotions every time it happens. Whatever, I'm not going to tell anyway.

Hey guys, just wanna tell you I'm still alive. Hi.