But every time when the night falls, when the world falls silent, these thoughts come creeping back to life.
Sleep could silence them. But most nights, I can't fall asleep.
Other nights, I refuse to go to sleep.
Because nights are the only time I have to myself.
Where I feel most alive.
Oh the irony.
Or perhaps it just makes sense.
I haven't cried in a while. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
Pretty sure it's not because I'm okay now, but probably because I've gotten so numb.
So used to how things have been.
I should be happy. I should be. Why should I not be?
I have no reasons to be sad. So why am I sad?
What rights do I have to be sad?
People have it worse than me. My problems are not problems.
My feelings are not valid. I should be ashamed for feeling down.
I have no rights to be down.
No.
I hate myself for that, engulfed with guilt.
But no, I can't talk about that. It's selfish. I'd be selfish.
Because it's not valid. My feelings are not valid.
No.
No.