I Feel Like Everyone Hates Me

I miss you like

I miss you like the moon misses the waves of the shore, lingering to bring it closer to its halo.

But you miss me like a shooting star in the sky on the brightest night in the city.

I’ve missed you like a dwarf planet yearning to be pulled back in its sun’s orbit.

But you miss me like a summer breeze on the hottest day in July.

It’s not the same, and it may never be. It’s never enough, and I blame myself for it. I hate myself most for longing to be missed by you like winter’s first snowfall.

What is it about me?

What is it about me that keeps you off the edge of your seat? Anticipating for me to trip on my left knee and fall over at your feet.

Caught in the act of a scene you made all in your head. Cut, scene, end.

Folding me in-between pages on a book that’s unable to close shut. Ruining the books you showcase on your bookshelf.

What is it about me that is so unnerving? That you wait for me to falter just to bring me down even further.

What is it about me where you find the need to nitpick at every little thing?

What is it about me where you need to know my every little move? As if my line cannot cross between others.

I’m stuck in a limbo of wanting to make you proud, and yet never ever being the one you choose to praise. So I’ll walk away, giving you an inch made you take me for miles.

So I choose to ask myself now, what about me?

Just wanted to tell you that you’re doing amazing! Keep up being the best YOU that you can be!!

Thank you so much!! This made my day!! This is incredibly sweet!

i wait

i wait by the mailbox everyday, hoping, wishing, that maybe a letter will show up. a letter professing their love back to me, their appreciation of my existence. maybe, just maybe, it's all in my head. how i'm not meant to be here. how i'm not worthy enough of being loved. of how their blank stares are just words of judgement of how i'm so much better off without them. and yeah, maybe theyre right. i am better off without them. but somehow i just can't let go. maybe, i'm used to the thorns on the stem of the flowers they give me. the dead, burnt, crisp, flowers.

I wish I was loved

I wish I was loved, unconditionally. through days when my energy sucks up a room with my blank eyes. through moments when I’m too scared to speak up for myself. through times when I want to speak my mind and instead keep quiet because I’m scared of being alone. through thoughts of wanting to run falling off a cliff when I can’t take it anymore. through my soft voice screaming to be heard when the winds push me off my feet.

I want to— love myself unconditionally. through days where i want to give up and yell at myself to do better, be better. I wish, I loved, unconditionally.

You haven’t called

You haven’t called, so the last time you did I fell right back asleep. I keep telling myself, this is for the better.

You called again, I shifted my time to be spent with someone who actually cared. I’m happier now.

I keep telling myself to let you go. But I feel so mean forcing myself to say goodbye, so I tell myself to take it slow. And I’m not gonna lie, this distance, is making me feel sick to my bones.

God. I sound like a bitch, but you’re the one who told me sometimes I need to be more of one. So I’m sorry if I need to be one for you.

I woke up today

I woke up today hoping it’d be much better, but the war in my head brought me back down. The rain poured down and my heart started to ache. I picked up a pen and wrote until I cried myself to sleep.

My eyes grow weary of the salt that burn them every night, of the thoughts that are branded into the depths of my brain, of how unworthy I am of just being.

I dreamt of drifting away until I could no longer feel my feet, until my thoughts were filled with raindrops that cleaned away the ash.

I had hoped again, today would be different. and maybe tomorrow my hopes will come true.

I skipped so that you could have it

I skipped lunch because this week we couldn't afford groceries, so i put back the butter on the conveyer belt so it wouldn't scan towards the $10 i had in my pocket. I skipped breakfast and lunch so they wouldn't worry about how many bowls they had left for dinner, as my stomach ached in pain and I could feel it in my throat. my stomach turned itself around until I had to lay back down to be able to feel the ground again. head reeling, face flushed, and eyes rolling over until the dizziness made me feel numb. i skipped the thought of wanting to eat so no one would worry if the food was about to go to waste, and be wasted on me particularly. how many bowls until i'm actually done with the thought of having to think about the next bowl and how many bowls we could have altogether.

I’m happy for you

You stop caring and I’m happy for you. I’m not someone worth thinking about anymore really.

I hold a lot of baggage and that’s something you don’t need right now. Or ever.

So I’ll be happy for you because I think being away from me is the best that life will give you.

and I’m a lot, I know. And I’m sorry.

I’ve been losing my appetite

I’ve been losing my appetite, and no it hasn’t been recently — it’s been years.

My whole life actually. It’s always been like this.

Have I always been scary to look at?

I lay on the floor of my room staring at my ceiling through the gaps of broken fingers, wondering if I’ll ever change. I don’t know.

That takes strength though, right? I don’t know if I have any more of that left. The fight in me has disappeared.

The only ones fighting for me now are my parents shaking my frail body like a rag-doll as I stare into the abyss reminding me that I’m still alive. That I need to drink water. That I need to eat. That I need to take it step by step.

But all I feel is this impending doom. I’m tired of everything. Everyone. Me. I'm tired of myself feeling tired. I’m mean and I’m usually never mean. Why am I being so mean? Especially, to myself.

Someone once told me eating wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, it was meant for survival. I appreciate the way they tried to help. But I think they failed to realize I’m tired of surviving. I’m exhausted, actually.

So I’ve— like always, been losing my appetite. Everything tastes bland, everything is so uninteresting, and everything isn’t worth eating for.