The reason I'm here for now, is nothing than the predictable one. The ONLY one.
June was a bad month, tried hard to convince myself that the coming month will be better. I really believed in that, once. And now it's already half past July, but things just got worse from day to day. Perhaps the previous month was just a foreshadow, a warning so that I could be mentally prepared before the next month dawns apart.
Weekdays are stress enough though, weekends are even more tense. There's no way I can ever make myself to look forward for weekends, not anymore, to the extent that I wouldn't want to imagine my coming weekends. I am so afraid that they might just put me into despair, one to another. Not like I'm an optimistic person some more. Honestly I'd rather to have no weekends. Less pressure I guess. Or hope.
This is the month which I was born. For 19 years, I had never been feeling this bad. Everyday is like pressuring you to death, slowly. Everything is like trying to make you succumb to it, and this feeling is growing so fast, that no one could ever tell the exact rate. Not even the best scientist on earth can find out. It's easier than simple, and it's tougher than complex.
Everyone has their own matters to deal with, YES I understand this. But I just couldn't settle problems on my own and I really hate myself about this. Why does everybody can, and yet you can't? Unless you're not a human. I doubted this at times. Weird thing is, whenever I'm down and depressed, I can't think of anyone to talk to, or even just to make me smile despite something has gone wrong. Is that I've changed to become less expressive, or it is because I had came to realise the fact that nobody around me has such an ability? Or I simply know that no one has ever bothered to do so?
I'm real desperate now!
I hate this place
I hate the people around me
I hate myself
Could anyone let me know when will all these end?
No it's OK. I dread being disappointed.