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just a sight
May. 23rd, 2024 11:56 pmi think something is wrong with me because i’m craving everything. i’m craving attention. i’m craving love. i’m also craving hate. i’m craving just a sight. i want to be seen, i want to be loved, to be hated even. i don’t care, i just need something. i just need anything because it’s like i do not exist. it’s like i am just a dream or, should i say, a nightmare. i’m like a piece missing somewhere but i don’t know where i belong and nobody cares because without this piece, the puzzle is still complete. nobody is going to see the difference. i do not complete a single thing; i do not make any difference. i do not exist, or i do not feel like i exist. but i want to be seen. i want to be loved. but nobody cares. nobody sees me like i’d like to be seen and nobody can love me the way i want to be loved. i’m just so wasted with my own self.
what do you mean, the way you want to be loved? i don’t know, i never really feel loved. my mother must hate me. i am like a parasite; i am like a disease. ever since i was born, i knew it. but i want —deeply— i deeply want her to see me. i want her to love me even if she isn’t capable of it. can she try? can she pretend to care? pretend i exist? pretend i am her son? pretend i am not just a child, that i am not just a child, that i am her child, that i am a human being? a human being who doesn’t even know how to be alive anymore. i just want to know what’s wrong. i just wish someone really cared about how i feel. because i can’t really feel it now. it’s just a deep wound in my heart, if i have one. i want it to be alive, full of blood and full of life, because in my chest, everything is so messy. everything is so hurtful. i wish my old friends could reassure me, but most of them are gone. i miss them all. i miss the old times. i miss them so bad i think I’m going to cry. but they don’t miss me back, so? what am i even crying for? i could have messaged them, but i didn’t. i let people forget me. i forget myself. i forget my way out, and now i am wasted.
and i am still craving everything, people’s love and people’s attention. i want people to see me, but is my face really mine? is my head really mine? it feels like i’ve been someone else. are they even going to recognize me? since i have changed so much, it feels like yesterday, but it also feels like some years, decades. i’ve always felt that way, so wasted with my proper self, so desperate to be seen, loved, cared for. i don’t know. i just need someone to tell me i exist. but if someone tells me that i exist, am i going to believe them? am i going to cry? am i going to disappear? am i going to be really loved, seen, if someone i love tells me i exist, acts like i exist? because i feel like the tear falling from my eyes is the only proof that i’m alive, because i’m not dead yet.
child, why are you even crying for ?
what do you mean, the way you want to be loved? i don’t know, i never really feel loved. my mother must hate me. i am like a parasite; i am like a disease. ever since i was born, i knew it. but i want —deeply— i deeply want her to see me. i want her to love me even if she isn’t capable of it. can she try? can she pretend to care? pretend i exist? pretend i am her son? pretend i am not just a child, that i am not just a child, that i am her child, that i am a human being? a human being who doesn’t even know how to be alive anymore. i just want to know what’s wrong. i just wish someone really cared about how i feel. because i can’t really feel it now. it’s just a deep wound in my heart, if i have one. i want it to be alive, full of blood and full of life, because in my chest, everything is so messy. everything is so hurtful. i wish my old friends could reassure me, but most of them are gone. i miss them all. i miss the old times. i miss them so bad i think I’m going to cry. but they don’t miss me back, so? what am i even crying for? i could have messaged them, but i didn’t. i let people forget me. i forget myself. i forget my way out, and now i am wasted.
and i am still craving everything, people’s love and people’s attention. i want people to see me, but is my face really mine? is my head really mine? it feels like i’ve been someone else. are they even going to recognize me? since i have changed so much, it feels like yesterday, but it also feels like some years, decades. i’ve always felt that way, so wasted with my proper self, so desperate to be seen, loved, cared for. i don’t know. i just need someone to tell me i exist. but if someone tells me that i exist, am i going to believe them? am i going to cry? am i going to disappear? am i going to be really loved, seen, if someone i love tells me i exist, acts like i exist? because i feel like the tear falling from my eyes is the only proof that i’m alive, because i’m not dead yet.
child, why are you even crying for ?
