♥ THIS IS REAL, THIS IS ME
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July 25, 2014

And if I decided one day not to wake up anymore, just know that I’ve been battling tooth and nail all these sadness and loneliness away which are eating me whole. My life is already full of people who hates and dislikes me. I know we can’t please everybody, but when you’ll realize all those people around speaks ill about you when you’re not around, you’ll just wish that you better be good as dead. The worst is that all those things they say about you, which from the start you just know you’re not, just starts sinking deeply unto you. I’m dumb because I can’t solve a single math problem and that I failed my Trigonometry. I’m obsessed to that one person because I keep on blogging about how much I admired him before. I’m boring because I choose not to go to parties because I hate being in crowded places with lots of eyes that could be staring and criticizing me and my physical appearance, and chose to read my book inside my room instead. I’m snob because I chose not to talk to people when I don’t feel like talking to them and pretend that everything’s still good between us. I’m flirt because the guy I like before and I were friends, and that I have some male/feminine boy/boyish girl friends which I felt to be more comfortable with because I know they can be both a girl and a boy at the same time. I don’t deserve good grades at some of my plates because I’m not that good at drawing or anything and that I’ve always been the weakest at school and that I should always be. I’m an attention seeker because I wanted myself to improve at things I wanted to be good at.  They called me "tomboy" & "lesbo", because I kept on playing boyish games during elementary, and that they don’t see me as girly enough as all my classmates during high school. I passed some of my subjects with a male professor not because I’m capable, but because I’m a girl. I’m a burden, because I keep on getting sick and my medicines were expensive. I’m rude because I’m too shy to talk to some of my relatives. I’m sensitive because I hurt and cry easily over little things that by the way, means a lot to me. I’m everything who they are not, and they hate me for that.

Stating the obvious, I remember every single word being thrown at my face, and on my back. They’re the bullets being shot towards me, burying inside my flesh; the ghosts I wish I’d never known, always been haunting me; the virus spreading inside of me, silently torturing, slowly killing me. I tried drowning them with pages from the books, music lyrics from the earphones, horizontal life pauses from my sleeps, but they keep coming back to me every after I say the words “I’M OKAY”.  I know this isn’t about them, this is all about me. What’s so wrong with me? Why can’t I handle my life properly?

To say that my life is a mess would be an understatement. I’m a complete wreck and I’m tired trying to fix myself. Dear God, come and get me already. No one’s happy seeing me walking alive on this planet anymore, anyway.

Freehand-drafting.

Thomas.

❝ That amazing feeling when you lose yourself so far into a book, you actually think you’re living out the story. But then you close the book and you’re faced with reality yet again. ❞

— (via ispeakquotes)

Completed. ♥

I’m ready for my close up.

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