maybe if i wasn’t this broken, maybe i wouldn’t have broken us. Maybe if i wasn’t this depressed, maybe i wouldn’t have affected you. But this is my reality, i have no place i can have my peace, all my walls echo a raging noise from hatred and threats, the people i’m supposed to confide in shatters me everyday. I wake up and pretend that it’s an ordinary day but there’s always this part of me who silently hoped that i won’t wake up anymore. I put on make up and fix my hair everyday to conceal the dying soul in me, to hide behind a facade that i’m a girl who has her life together. But no, i conceal not because i like myself and like what i see. No, i hate myself, i hate the way i look, i hate the way i have to put on a great amount of effort just so i could look a little better and hide my insecurities. I hate my body, my form, my figure, my skin. I hate this heart who feels too much, this mind that overflows with thoughts. Still, i have to wake up each day and pretend i’m okay. No one knows about my break downs at work, the tears i have to wipe quickly because even at my lowest, i have to show up. No one knows i cry at the restroom no matter how good my day went because i know that it wasn’t my reality.

as the eldest daughter, pressure’s on you to be the middle ground from all chaos, be that daughter they never have to worry about, be that someone your sister can look upon

Protecting your peace comes with a price, you hurt, tear, and recover in silence just so you could keep them. In the midst of everyone you love, between all groups of people you’re involved in, somehow, all you’ll ever have is you. You choose to distance yourself from everyone, it isn’t a choice but for the mere reason that you’ve got no one to run into.

And maybe one day, you’ll see through my tears, they’re not a cry for attention or pity. I cry for every part of me is bleeding through its cracks made from all of the moments that shattered my soul.

Only old conversations soothes you, reminds you how well you were loved before and that a love like that was once possible. We existed, and though only fragments of what we once were remained, i’m thankful i got to experience being loved right.

it’s 7am on a work day, no matter how i wish this day could just be like any other, you’re here, trapping yourself in the restroom, crying but trying not to make any sound despite your heavy heart. i don’t seem to know where i could pour all my worries and troubles in, opening up feels like I’m shoving them my burdens and i don’t want to worry and maybe, annoy them.

unsent diaries:

i find myself at complete off-track more often than ever. lost daze, disoriented and bored from the routine life has thrown at me.