I'll Search For You In Every Person I Meet

Bittersweet

I love you and hate you, both at the same time.

I love the way you say my name, but I hate that it's always out of disappointment.

I love the way you smile, but I hate that it's never towards me.

I love the way you talk, but I hate that you would never talk to me first.

I love the way you look, but I hate that you never look at me.

I love the way you care about others, but I hate that you never care about me.

I love the way you pay attention to detail, but I hate that I'm the only one you ignore.

I love the way you just exist. But I hate that it wouldn't matter to you if I didn't.

I hate loving you.

But you love hating me.

I'm just the culmination of all things I hate

Death is an old friend.

She rocked my cradle when I was a baby. Held my hand as I took my first steps. Sat with me at lunch in school when no one else did.

She never says anything, but I understand her nevertheless. She finds ways to comfort me in silence.

I thought she was cold and distant at first. Cruel, even. When she tore apart families, orphaned young children, made parents have to bury their hearts along with their babies.

But she also provided peace to the ones who have been sick for a long time. Brought justice to those who wronged others. Ended much suffering.

She's kind and cruel at the same time.

She arranges visits with my grandpa sometimes if I ask nicely. He doesn't trust her, but he likes visiting me. He manages to put up with her long enough.

She's always there for me. Even when no one else is. Especially when they all leave. She visits me when I sleep, giving me a preview of what awaits.

She tells me my time will come soon enough. I'm glad. I find solace in her cold arms.

My feelings of boredom are begining to overcome me. I don't feel anything, not on my own. Recently, I began to conform less and mask less in an attempt to see who I was without the mask. The answer is nobody. I have no distinctive personality.

I lack anything human.

I don't have any opinions. I don't care about anything. It's an issue, because it means I am forced to face the fact that I don't feel anything. I don't have a personality, I can't be a human, so why am I here? My existence is pointless if I don't experience life. I'm not going to kill myself yet, maybe in a few years when I have freedom and no reason to keep going.

Right now the people around me give me something to live for. They remind me that I am perceived, and that my death would do something. Their existence reminds me that right now, I don't want to die, I just don't want to have responsibilities. I don't want to do anything,because everything is boring.

One day I will be liberated by death and cease to exist, but that day is not right now.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for you

And yet it's not enough

Because I was never the one for you

Even though you were the one for me

I always sleep with one eye open, on the door

scared of the eyes I think will stare back

I never doubted my parents’ love for me. but I often question whether or not they actually like me

maybe an actual cage would feel less like a prison than this place I call home

*showing visible symptoms* oh my god i need help desperately

*symptoms go away for one day* what if im just faking it