A Different kind of Sad

Tonight, I write these thoughts to you:

The difference between being the real you alone, and being with other people is uncanny. It is unpredictable, in the sense that one is willing to pretend, to fake her own well being to survive in the real world.

One is willing to mask their own true emotions and rather, pretend to have none. Bowing to logic and rational thinking, and just hide every cent of statement in her own skin, are the safest things to avoid conflict with other people.

This is what I have been doing all along, and I have to admit, it is not working.

For me, to crawl and survive in life, I have to pretend. Pretend to be outgoing, to be vivacious and loud, for a couple of minutes. Then, I can fit in and belong even once in a while.

However, these steps are not even working. I realized that these actions bear a lot of consequences that already made me suffer. I lost weight and I have various mood swings and fevers going on. Because of this, I realized that it came back again.

The word itself, is the one I faced before. In fact, I named it already. I just cannot tell it here, or to anyone else.

It clouds me again. Every day, I think straight but I feel empty, in the sense, that I always go back to swirling thoughts of grey, links of melancholic tunes and sadness that always bear inside my head.

It affects me a lot for I am not even sure who I am anymore. I'm stagnant, and feel like I'm floating behind that dark cloud. I'm like a still pond, full of murks and moss atop of it, wherein these moss represents worries and unclouded judgement.

Though, I'm satisfied of the concept wherein life has its own sad tolls, this sadness is a different kind. I don't know anymore how to define it... and I'm sure it is not the hopeful kind of sad, the sad I always find enchanting...

This sad is confusing, yet I push myself to let it flow. Let that dark cloud pass away for my lonely soul to feel the sun, sometimes.

I just miss them... I think that's my own truth. However, I do not want to hope anymore that they miss me back. I never had the chance of people visiting my own place surprisingly, telling me that we sincerely wanted to see you.

Sincerity, my favorite word. However, I find others very difficult to have it.

Let me put this at end. Even though these lonely thoughts are engraved in this paper, I find it appreciative for even a non-living being is always there to listen to my own ramblings. It is for me to realize, that solitude is a friend I could always count on...

Here's to loving loneliness where thoughts are real and deep...