softie

All these years somehow I expected life to somehow work out at the end. I haven’t really had a dream, no ambition, I didn’t know what to do with my life. I just believed If I work hard, I’ll get a job. If I truly love someone, they’ll never leave. If I love someone, I’ll convince my parents anyhow because they will understand all my life I did everything just for them. I live just for them.

But honestly, it doesn’t work out and nothing is truly in your hands. You can do nothing if your hands are tied. Maybe I didn’t have a dream because I knew it will only shatter and hurt me back.

Now, I finally got a dream. Nothing too fancy. Get a good job, marry the person I love, take care of my parents and just live a good little peaceful life.

But realizing how different your reality is, it hurts.

I am scared of my future, I am scared of waking up tomorrow because I don’t know what tragedies will strike me again.

Never try too much.

Never beg too much.

Never cry too much.

I don’t really feel like I am important anywhere or to anyone.

Though I tried to become someone worthy of importance, it just never happened.

I was always the kid who was chosen the last.

If I didn’t go to a party, no one noticed.

If my work had to let go of employees, I know I’d be the first one to go.

No one ever came and greeted me first.

I was always the one confessing my love first, always pouring in all my efforts and never really being a priority or worthy of time.

I tried my best to be important somewhere but I guess I was always supposed to be a side character who is never noticed.

No one called out my name because they needed me.

Maybe that’s why I am an only child because if I had any siblings I know I wouldn’t be the favorite one.

I wish that death would close my eyes.

An end to burdens I cannot bear,

The whispers cold, the vacant stare.

A family freed from shame I bring,

No more the reason gossip sings.

The one I love would feel no pain,

From all the heartache, from this strain.

For in that rest, my mind would cease,

These racing thoughts might find their peace.

And maybe then, the hurt would end,

It’s when you stop calling first, texting first, making plans because you want to give them a chance to do the same.

And now that you seem to have gotten bored of me and no longer wanting to give me your time, I am realizing that I have become a fool again and that maybe it was just all in my mind, maybe I was making myself believe that you might feel the same way for me.