(no subject)
Broken, empty, fragile, emotionally unstable...it's all different covers for the same boring, repetitive book, the same bitter result of an inability to let go of the past. You can't move on; God forbid you end up happy with no reason to cry for attention. Instead, you wallow in a pool of your own self-pity, sponge-bathing yourself in everyone's false sympathy. They don't care, they just want to shut you up. They want to muzzle your face, cut out your tongue. Everyone recognizes your cries for attention, but no one has the balls to rub it in your face, so they wipe your ass and send you along. You can feel their pity, but you desperately want their empathy. You bask in the glow of the lies they serve you, avoiding any altercation that could disassemble your ignorant comfort. Keep swallowing that harsh pill, but it's going to end up lodged in your throat.
-Shan
-Shan