Another Year, and Nothing New
In exactly one week, another year will have passed. Another year of feeling nothing and everything. Another year of hoping for the best and getting screwed.
Seventeen years, and everything just got worst.
I've forgotten what it feels like to be truly happy and it hurts to think of a future where nothing good exist.
I don't see a future with me in it.
In fact, I lost myself years ago, when I realized everyone hated who I was.
I became what everyone expected of me, and lost the will to breathe another day in the process.
My hearts beats only for the little boy who needs me in his life.
Sometimes I wonder if that's enough.
My brother should have his sister, not an empty casket who just looks like her.
And I don't think I can give him that. Not anymore, because I can't find her.
Sometimes I think that he would be so much better off without me. He's not even a year yet. He has time to forget what he never had.
My birthday is just another day. Nothing special, nothing new. Just another mark on the calender that no one pays attention to.
I don't remember the last time I was excited about growing another year. I simply grew tired of disappointment, and stopped expecting anything.
It's better on my heart that way.
Sometimes I let myself imagine what it would be like to be seen.
I look at my mother and silently scream at her. She stretches me so thin that I'm practically transparent and yet she still can't see through my crumbling facade.
She can't or she won't. Same difference.
I want what I can't have, and that fact keeps me from revealing too much to her and others.
All of you here don't know me. You never did, you don't and you never will. It's a simple fact. One that I accept.
Because if you knew me, you would run, because you couldn't stand being near someone as broken, as fragile, and as emotionally dead as me.
I let you see what you can handle, and nothing more.
Seventeen years, and everything just got worst.
I've forgotten what it feels like to be truly happy and it hurts to think of a future where nothing good exist.
I don't see a future with me in it.
In fact, I lost myself years ago, when I realized everyone hated who I was.
I became what everyone expected of me, and lost the will to breathe another day in the process.
My hearts beats only for the little boy who needs me in his life.
Sometimes I wonder if that's enough.
My brother should have his sister, not an empty casket who just looks like her.
And I don't think I can give him that. Not anymore, because I can't find her.
Sometimes I think that he would be so much better off without me. He's not even a year yet. He has time to forget what he never had.
My birthday is just another day. Nothing special, nothing new. Just another mark on the calender that no one pays attention to.
I don't remember the last time I was excited about growing another year. I simply grew tired of disappointment, and stopped expecting anything.
It's better on my heart that way.
Sometimes I let myself imagine what it would be like to be seen.
I look at my mother and silently scream at her. She stretches me so thin that I'm practically transparent and yet she still can't see through my crumbling facade.
She can't or she won't. Same difference.
I want what I can't have, and that fact keeps me from revealing too much to her and others.
All of you here don't know me. You never did, you don't and you never will. It's a simple fact. One that I accept.
Because if you knew me, you would run, because you couldn't stand being near someone as broken, as fragile, and as emotionally dead as me.
I let you see what you can handle, and nothing more.