Their jovial, their happiness makes me tight in the chest. Why is me who has to compromise? I'm tired of it. So, so tired. I have to be the one to do the dirty job while people can chat away. I have to be the one starting all the work and monitoring all of it just because of incompetent people. I have to get all the blame that i didn't even voice out just because i was not there for valid reasons, and you have to poke your nose into the business and shove me in the gut. I have to run up and down like a fool just to do what you want. I have to be left alone again and again all on my own because of your fickleness. I have to feel guilty for making you feel guilty and throw all bygones aside.

But have i really thrown them away? Even if i had, there must have been fragments leftover. Everyone can get unhappy. And i want to say that i am not happy at the moment. I am depressed. I feel like sinking into a chair, feel my mouth hanging lose, my eyes dropping, my muscles relaxed, my body limp. I am not the kind of saint who can attain such a big heart for forgiveness, nor can my filled heart contain any more misgivings. Sure, i am selfish in this way, but what gives you the right to be forgiven for all the unspoken deed you've done? What makes my heart so soft.

Shoes off my feet, me on my seat, hugging my knees to my chest, half leaning my aching head on my knees and against the car window, my hair covered my face. I felt unnervingly safe. As if in a jail. I feel my chest heaving up and down, feel myself choking, my hair matted with sticky mucus, my thighs drooping wet with tears and my already sore throat clogged and coated, unable to speak. That was my wounded heart, needing healing. People only made it worse, touching the gashing wound, making me wince and snarl with pain. It was not a day to beek. It was a day to stay in the glooms and await for nothing in particular to happen. What a way to end August.

Lonely hearts are not recognised, but felt.

Their jovial, their happiness makes me tight in the chest. Why is me who has to compromise? I'm tired of it. So, so tired. I have to be the one to do the dirty job while people can chat away. I have to be the one starting all the work and monitoring all of it just because of incompetent people. I have to get all the blame that i didn't even voice out just because i was not there for valid reasons, and you have to poke your nose into the business and shove me in the gut. I have to run up and down like a fool just to do what you want. I have to be left alone again and again all on my own because of your fickleness. I have to feel guilty for making you feel guilty and throw all bygones aside.

But have i really thrown them away? Even if i had, there must have been fragments leftover. Everyone can get unhappy. And i want to say that i am not happy at the moment. I am depressed. I feel like sinking into a chair, feel my mouth hanging lose, my eyes dropping, my muscles relaxed, my body limp. I am not the kind of saint who can attain such a big heart for forgiveness, nor can my filled heart contain any more misgivings. Sure, i am selfish in this way, but what gives you the right to be forgiven for all the unspoken deed you've done? What makes my heart so soft.

Shoes off my feet, me on my seat, hugging my knees to my chest, half leaning my aching head on my knees and against the car window, my hair covered my face. I felt unnervingly safe. As if in a jail. I feel my chest heaving up and down, feel myself choking, my hair matted with sticky mucus, my thighs drooping wet with tears and my already sore throat clogged and coated, unable to speak. That was my wounded heart, needing healing. People only made it worse, touching the gashing wound, making me wince and snarl with pain. It was not a day to beek. It was a day to stay in the glooms and await for nothing in particular to happen. What a way to end August.

Lonely hearts are not recognised, but felt.