Oil in a stew

crying wouldn’t get the things out.

If you ever had those Asian meat and veggie stews, there’s a layer of oil floating on top of the sauce and liquid, and at the bottom of the sauce there are grains and clumps of food. When you drain the oil out, the clumps are still in the bowl, more compact, nothing changes. Tearing up is only draining the oil out.

I hate this, I hate how I’m in a constant conflict with myself, and I’m always the one at fault, since I’m fighting myself, I can’t win. Something really trivial happened and just triggered everything back. at least im not crying over nothing again, it happened because of an actual, but hey, hey, I’m feeling something, and fuck the stuff I said while I was in the numb stage, I don’t want to feel this, I don’t want to relive this, it just won’t leave alone. i have to pay back for everything good I feel, I was happy, god I was happy for the first time in months for one single night last week, and now I’ll have to pay the price. It hurts way too much, I can’t breathe, it’s all fake, it’s all fake, the reality I’m living in won’t let me live yet it won’t let go.

this is so fucking trivial, but my photos on both of my phones, they’re all gone, something happened, and there goes every one of them, I don’t even know what happened, but then I was upset, but i didn’t care enough to go into another episode, but then everything on my notepad disappeared.
im so terribly lonely I’m going to die, for the last 15 years, nobody has been to the inside of my heart before, haha, surreal dream, as if anyone actually had a person…we are all suffering, while I’m still holding a tiny bit of expectation, that someone will come and hold my hand.
The more connected we are, the lonelier we get. I see other people’s worlds, their happiness, things I’ll never be able to reach in my life. People under the sun wouldn’t even notice you, they don’t know that the shadows exist.

i havent cried this much in a while, the tears are just coming out and out and out, it’s good, thank god I can still cry. Keeping everything in is so fucking hard, at least the thoughts can flow out a tiny bit with the tears. Over what? Over the shit I wrote in a fucking app, more than that, but that started it all. I took escaping reality a bit fucking much and wrote so much about the love I wanted, I wrote so stories that helped to distract me from the fact that I’m here, and one click they’re gone, I didn’t even do it, I don’t know what happened, my diary disappeared 3 months ago when a similar thing happened, but it never hurt like this before, I through every last bit of me, the part that are still flammable into the bonfire of fake shit, words, characters, fictional relationships, and the protagonist isn’t even myself. I wrote about two people, being happy together, and that was enough, I wrote all and everything, only to have it all taken away from me again, and I’m all alone, its dark. it’s all in my head.

I just wanted to cope with things my way.

its so trivial, it’s fucking nothing compared to other people, yet I’m a fucking mess.

i don’t know what’ll make me get up tomorrow.

i don’t know what’ll keep me going anymore.

I just, secretly, at the bottom of my heart, I just want to be loved, like the character I wrote about, they held each other when they felt upset, they cared about each other, things I’ll never have, All I needed was to just write about it and that’ll be enough to make me happy.

jts taken away, again, just like everything else. I don’t know what’ll keep me going when I opened my eyes tomorrow, technically today, it’s 5:50 am.

In the end, no matter what I post, how I talk, how I feel, right now, at this moment, I’m just a fucking kid, and I don’t think I’ve ever grown out of the shadows, and life just took the last bit of passion out of me, I’m 15 but I ran out of time a while ago

no matter how long I last, it’s always going to end the same. People are right when they say it’s not going to be always like this, that it’s going to get better. But the “better” times come up for one day or two, they disappear,  then it’s weeks, months of suffering, instead hearing “it’s going to get better” in the dark, it’s worse to be under the sun knowing that “it’s going to get worse”

I’m not going to read this over, spelling and grammar might be trash, bear with me,

“Then why don’t you just do it?”

there’s no way out, this is way too fucking cruel, I’m running in a maze getting chased down by myself, while life fucks me up here and there just for fun.

I should do it, I should have done it a long time ago, I should have choked myself with the umbilical cord. I just want to live in my imagination, it doesn’t hurt anyone else, but myself yet I can’t do even that. I’m tired.

its 6am, I should sleep

fuck it, what a coincidence that it’s April fools.what if I leave today, a fool dies on fools day