It’s such a mess, so much that I… Am in the middle of too many feelings and none at all. You’d think that that’ll end up being just the right amount of feelings, but…. No.

For the first time in a while, this is not an outlet for sadness. But rather, a document to air out frustrations.

I don’t understand. Why is it so easy to cut me out? To forget me. To… disregard me as a living being whose hearts still beats in this unpleasant state of consciousness. Am I an optional extra? Like a side to a main protein?

It’s dawned on me that I hate as much as I love. But more often than not, I keep the hate within me, to claw and eat at my sense of self until, well, I guess until I self-combust. More often then not, I only show the people I love (and hate) the side of me that is available, loving, kind and generous. I was on the other side of every phone call, I cried so that they wouldn’t cry alone.

Why then? Why do they find it so easy to toss me aside? It’s as if they can wipe my existence from their mind, and forever accept the change of dynamics between us.

I hate them. Why don’t they care that I do?

Why is it that always and always, the only one who cares is me?

I must be the greatest fool.

As I write this, I can feel tears of indignation springing up, almost as if to my defence. If only they were. I wish that every time I shed tears, a part of me would disappear. How ideal if after some time, all of me would cease to exist.

Not that anyone would notice. But it’s all right, at least I would feel no more.

Everyday, I tell myself that I shouldn’t care. That I can erase them from my world as they did me. But my wretched heart just refuses to let go. It constantly aches, for my own inadequacy and my desire for their validation.

It’s humiliating. Mortifying.

I don’t know what to do.   

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