Merry Christmas - Victoria Diaz.

I’ve been overthinking (big surprise there) about human relationships, about my human relationships. About how I interact with others, how I don’t. How much I am. How little I am. How hard it’s to be around a person who tries but can never phantom to say the word “sorry”. How difficult it’s to love me. How you must slay a dragon and destroy a whole city to get to know me. How little of my real person I show. How little of me I know. How you must fight your way into my word and then… I’ll isolate myself for weeks because I can’t bear the thought of being around other people. I am horrible at talking yet I. Do. Not. Stop. Talking. But what I say it’s not true or at least not fully. I must always hide how I truly feel. No one can really know how blue I truly are.

I am unlovable, that’s the truth. I am the horrible creature no one wants to be around. I’ll soon die and I will be alone, just me and my anger. There would be no funeral or grave stone for me, because no one cared enough to do it. With no family to care for or maybe they’ll feel happy that finally, they got rid of the impossible kid. My mother tried but I am and I always will be just an angry kid, not even sadness will cut it for me. Just anger, nothing more and nothing less.

Me and my anger are eating alone, a food that I didn’t want to make because I don’t feel hunger. Just one light above us and crappy TV to feel like I am avoiding thinking but it lives in me. Knowing that I am too much to hold, that no one would be able to understand or be around me. That no one likes me, that I am nothing. That I do not know how to do anything, and the saddest truth comes up: trying isn’t enough and it would never be enough.