The Story of My Life

My Fault

Please. I beg of you. Don't expect me to always be good, kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold, thoughtless and hard to understand. In those moments, that voice I hear in my head, it's not my conscience. It's my fear. I hate when people see me cry because I want to look strong in their eyes. At the same time, I hate how people never notice how broken I am. I honestly hold in too much. When I'm upset, I don't like to tell anyone. Especially the person who made me feel that way. No matter how much anyone asks, the answer will always be, "I'm fine." Even if it's not true. If my own happiness leads to the misfortune of others then being unhappy is probably the wisest choice. I tried to live continually without thoughts of ill will, cynicism, suspicion, and envy to avoid being confined in a self-made prison cell but ended up worse than I could've ever been. I try and I try but nothing changes. I'm still not the me I want to be. Just because I smile doesn't mean I'm happy. I poured my all into everything. I poured and poured and poured. Now they ask me why I'm so empty. But as my life came to a close, I realized I was the villain all along.