I don't write much these days about how I feel. It feel futile, writing things down in a frenzy. I'm not 19 anymore. I'm more seasoned now. I know now what I feel at this moment will not last. I betray myself with my coping mechanisms. But there's not much option anyway. I can't allow the floodgates to open, again.
I'm baffled at the insensitivity. I'm baffled at how only I am expected to understand. I'm baffled at how I am expected to let insensitivity be, that that's how it should be. It's been 2 years and I haven't yet been understood. I've tempered down, a part of me has realised the futility of vocalising. I think I naturally bypass certain things now. This wasn't how I wanted to be- but anything for peace, right? Silence for peace, because digging dirt out will always mean war. Let's just be pretty and happy. That's how it SHOULD be, after all.
I'm baffled at the insensitivity. I'm baffled at how only I am expected to understand. I'm baffled at how I am expected to let insensitivity be, that that's how it should be. It's been 2 years and I haven't yet been understood. I've tempered down, a part of me has realised the futility of vocalising. I think I naturally bypass certain things now. This wasn't how I wanted to be- but anything for peace, right? Silence for peace, because digging dirt out will always mean war. Let's just be pretty and happy. That's how it SHOULD be, after all.
