anit.

learning to cry.

Recently I have learned to cry, 

to let my soul mourn

over the revolting existence 

i call myself. 

i cant do anything right. 

no matter how i try. 

sleepless nights,

days of dedication, moments of prayer.

everything in vain. everything in despair. 

luck and good fortune avoid me 

and cast me astray

and i am left helpless and in anguish 

life becomes a constant struggle 

like catching smoke in bare hands. 

The more you get to know a person, the more attractive they become to you. Because everything beautiful you see on the inside of them, suddenly you’re able to see on the outside of them too.

(Source: humanfuckingscum, via adyrda)

misery.

im sick of not being good enough,

im sick of not understanding

im sick of being the stupider one.

i fucking hate losing.

i hate being wrong

i hate the feeling of shattered confidence

i hate the feeling of helplessness and inferiority

Ignorance.

Act like you dont hear

 my every word

act like you dont listen

 to my every utterance

act like you dont see my actions

who I am.

act like you’re blind

 to my every action

im used to speaking my mind.

and if YOU act like you dont hear me,

then expect to hear my loud.

turn on my megabitch

and my inner savage unravels.

keep on acting like the world is perfect,

that you are perfect.

trust me, your fooling no one 

especially

not me.

but keep going

because quite frankly…

its entertaining to watch you try so hard.

“’Will you remember this day Gogol?’ his father asked, turning back to look at him, his hands pressed like earmuffs to either side of his head. ‘How long do I have to remember it?’ Over the rise and fall of the wind, he could hear his father’s laughter. He was standing there, waiting for Gogol to catch up, putting out a hand as Gogol drew near. ‘Try to remember it always,’ he said once Gogol had reached him, leading him slowly back towards the breakwater to where his mother and Sonia stood waiting. ‘Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere else left to go.’”

(Source: portraitd-unefemme)

pain.

I will never be as good as her. ever. 

i wont be as pretty, as intelligent, as exotic. as perfect.

i will never be her. ever. 

i literally put my blood,sweat and tears in my work

and what happens?

i fail.

but, of course, she

never. ever fails.

and I don’t succeed. why?

simply because nothing

nothing. in my life goes in my favor. ever.

my secrets.

I’m afraid of what tomorrow holds

I fear being alone.

I fear what could have been. 

I used to be really, really, shy.

and I guess I still am sometimes.

I hate hearing his name.

I hate thinking about memories that I once cherished

I love raspberries.

i love drinking hot chai from earthy,rustic looking cups.

I love working in the sunlight

I hate disappointing my parents

I hate being dependent.

I hate crying,but sometimes I wish I would.

I wish i could cry.

I try to let the world know of my miseries, the tortuous battles

that I fight within myself. 

I’m programmed to keep everything within my weak little heart.

I hate my secrets.

reality check.

reality doesn’t have to be perfect.

but then again, is reality different from a dream because nothing ever works out perfectly? Are we all roaming about in a dream that we call reality?

Nothing ever works to my favor. My life, its decisions my reality now.

nothing.nothing whats so ever is real. it cant be

Im not living my life, they are.

my life,my love my career. everything. everything that I thought was my own decision, isnt. its there’s.

so whats the point in living like this.

there is simply no point at all. I tell myself to be a rebel.

Do something differently and then there will be change.

Life-changing change.