February 1, 2008

Misunderstood

I am trying to figure out myself what makes my life miserable these past few days.  Those unexplained cause that made me feel like i am being one of the world’s outcast. Perhaps, its the rain that reminds me of the pains I been through, it is my frustration of having a meaningless life—I am extremely saddened and so disappointed with myself today.


I am trying to fix my broken life. I tried so hard but like a broken glass, I never have a chance to patch-up everything. There will always be an empty space, vanished parts and deformities. Life will never be as perfect as the way life before, no matter how hard I tried. There is no way for reinvention. I don't know, but I once believed that wearing a mask will make my life look better. It is the only way I could think of today. I have to hide those scars that marked my dark past.


I feel so down… so ugly… I am so exhausted… and yeah, wasted. I am truly impaired… Am I going to be a doctor or end up again in nowhere for a thousand time already. I hate that destination—a literally known “space” wherein you cant find any single thing around, an empty freedom.

Some people would say “I am just getting frustrated over something I should not”. Then, do you know how it feels to be like CRISTY?

    I am silently struggling to survive, fighting back myself—exactly, my greatest enemy as of now is myself. Do you know then how hard it is for me to contradict everything? I wanted to cry and revenge but I should not. I wanted to die but I should stand firm. My body and mind is becoming weaker each passing day—times that I need silence to convince myself that I have to be strong. It is exactly the abnormality I identified to be Major Depression and not just a feeling of blues and sadness.

This is bad, but all I wanted to do right now is to take revenge. I tried hard to let it go, but I can still hear those insults I got back home. I can still hear myself screaming in pain. And what hurts more is the fact that I been so nice— I been so good… but then they still did those wicked things pushing me to be BAD.

        And the stinging fact perhaps was those moments that I am in tears while they're all in laughter calling me crazy.

        Tell me now, am I really bad to think and feel this way?


Originally posted at
cristymay.multiply.com

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