In me
I was having a conversation with myself.
I still am.
The voice inside of me shouts at me. "Be sad", it says.
" But why? ", I ask.
" Do I need to tell you why? ", it says.
" Don't you know enough about them", it says.
I know enough. I know enough and it knows.
That voice knows exactly what I think. What I criticize myself on.
I was thinking of why I don't want people around me.
I realised that it is because I have found myself but I keep losing me while trying to understand them.
or maybe because I don't believe in what I am. Have I really found myself?
I thought about how I'm unable to tell if I'm full or hungry when I sit with others.
I don't know the right portions of food to take exactly according to my appetite because those plates around me, confuse me. I forget what I exactly want but I remember the vague idea.
I was wondering if I'm shallow to be okay with all the people who I'm not with anymore. Am I just okay with them not respecting me as a person if I choose to be okay with their company?
Why do I want to be that way?
I don't necessarily like them. I think I am shallow.
You know, I always think. Think that people don't really care about me the way I want them to.
But the thing is, when you start afresh with someone brand new, they care exactly like the way you would want them to care. Because they know less of you.
People just want anyone to listen. To listen. Just be heard. That's what I initially absorbed from my society like a lot of other lessons.
So I always listened. Atleast I tried. But the thing is. People do play their mere act of listening, but the essence of the action, they forget. They forget to care.
And I don't blame them. I do not blame them. It is just that, they do not feel what I feel. or maybe they don't know. I cannot communicate it. Because it isn't quantifiable. I sometimes push myself to melancholy. But I'm there for all the right reasons.
I feel like I've done injustice to the possibilities of people I could've loved.
They way I could've loved them.
I could have been simple.
I think I'm pretentious. And I've faked it all for so long that I have forgotten.
I still am.
The voice inside of me shouts at me. "Be sad", it says.
" But why? ", I ask.
" Do I need to tell you why? ", it says.
" Don't you know enough about them", it says.
I know enough. I know enough and it knows.
That voice knows exactly what I think. What I criticize myself on.
I was thinking of why I don't want people around me.
I realised that it is because I have found myself but I keep losing me while trying to understand them.
or maybe because I don't believe in what I am. Have I really found myself?
I thought about how I'm unable to tell if I'm full or hungry when I sit with others.
I don't know the right portions of food to take exactly according to my appetite because those plates around me, confuse me. I forget what I exactly want but I remember the vague idea.
I was wondering if I'm shallow to be okay with all the people who I'm not with anymore. Am I just okay with them not respecting me as a person if I choose to be okay with their company?
Why do I want to be that way?
I don't necessarily like them. I think I am shallow.
You know, I always think. Think that people don't really care about me the way I want them to.
But the thing is, when you start afresh with someone brand new, they care exactly like the way you would want them to care. Because they know less of you.
People just want anyone to listen. To listen. Just be heard. That's what I initially absorbed from my society like a lot of other lessons.
So I always listened. Atleast I tried. But the thing is. People do play their mere act of listening, but the essence of the action, they forget. They forget to care.
And I don't blame them. I do not blame them. It is just that, they do not feel what I feel. or maybe they don't know. I cannot communicate it. Because it isn't quantifiable. I sometimes push myself to melancholy. But I'm there for all the right reasons.
I feel like I've done injustice to the possibilities of people I could've loved.
They way I could've loved them.
I could have been simple.
I think I'm pretentious. And I've faked it all for so long that I have forgotten.
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