𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲

𝐒𝐢𝐱

Burdens.
From family, this world, and specifically from
our own selves.
Ever-changing and ever-growing in a person's life. But only the people under these burdens know how heavy they are on their shoulders.

I've always tried to do better, but somehow it is never enough, and now I have no choice but to wonder if I'm ever going to be enough.

They say not to care about what people think of you, but how do they expect me not to when the ones closest to me keep on reminding me how much of a disgrace I am to this world?

I write my feelings down with the aim that maybe these negative feelings of mine will go away, but every single time I am back in my room, I secretly scribble down more and more stuff.

I never feel satisfied with anything I do, no matter how big or small it may be.

I feel myself slowly slipping down that dark hole again with no reaction other than making fake promises to myself that it is going to be okay when, deep inside, I know it's not.

It never was, and it never will be okay.

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