V - the story of
Tuesday, December 02, 2008

You're not my friend, my buddy, my comfort:

You're my critic, my analyst, my psychiatrist, my towering overseer, where evaluation is a constant reflection.

Welcome, paranoia.

So where do You fit in, God?

Well, I learnt that we are all designed to fail each other one way or another.

I know for sure that I will, time on time on time again, I will be completely incompetent, useless and an utter failure to you.

I don't dare open myself up, lest any wrong word, any misplaced thought, indecent showing of who I am, might leak out and be chastised.

I turn away and fortify bubble upon bubble, hoping that there will be no rude invasion anytime soon...I look into myself once more, as I search for who I am, what my worth is and where my purpose lies...

But a friction snaps whatever I have in my head, like static. It lingers until I waltz right into it again. And this sea of discomfort slowly washes over me...I'm here...you're here...together...again...

I don't know if this is all in my head. I don't know who to turn to, or what to turn to. When I look up, I see a ceiling. I look around and I'm surrounded by these towers.

Yet, I don't know if there is any truth in what I say...

Or if this is all in my head...

But I'll just return to reality now...where judgement rests on my head and this insecurity continue to gnaw at whatever I have left...

「€Œ 9:25 pm 」 » Comments:




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