..real me...
People think that I am this truly put-together person. What they don't know is that 90% of the time, I am barely able to contain the cyclone raging inside my head. A storm of self-defeating thoughts, of past shame, of past sins, of past abuses, of past anger that can sometimes boil up to a point where it becomes this one explosion of outburst followed by a season of angry depression.
People think I usually know what I am doing. What they don't understand is that inside I am just a heap of nerves pretending to be self-confident and sure of herself.
People seem to believe that my devil-may-care attitude is real. They do not know that I care and get hurt about every sarcastic, unkind, patronizing remark or joke that I hear.
I get constant headaches that make me a bitch. If you ask me to do you a favour or get something for you in one of those times, you will meet the unkindest version of me.
I hate jokes that are not funny, especially the ones where one has to shut down or suspend his intellect to be able to laugh about it.
Everything has to have a reason. You cannot tell me that something just happened. It has to have a good reason for taking place. If it does not, then it is just laziness, or negligence, or inefficiency.
The battles in my mind can sometimes get to a head that anyone in my way when it reaches boiling point will truly get burned. See, I have to keep fighting this intense war in my head or else I will end up beaten, and then I won't have the incentive to stay alive. All my brain will tell my soul is that I would be better off being nonexistent in this dimension.
mY Synapses...
People think I usually know what I am doing. What they don't understand is that inside I am just a heap of nerves pretending to be self-confident and sure of herself.
People seem to believe that my devil-may-care attitude is real. They do not know that I care and get hurt about every sarcastic, unkind, patronizing remark or joke that I hear.
I get constant headaches that make me a bitch. If you ask me to do you a favour or get something for you in one of those times, you will meet the unkindest version of me.
I hate jokes that are not funny, especially the ones where one has to shut down or suspend his intellect to be able to laugh about it.
Everything has to have a reason. You cannot tell me that something just happened. It has to have a good reason for taking place. If it does not, then it is just laziness, or negligence, or inefficiency.
The battles in my mind can sometimes get to a head that anyone in my way when it reaches boiling point will truly get burned. See, I have to keep fighting this intense war in my head or else I will end up beaten, and then I won't have the incentive to stay alive. All my brain will tell my soul is that I would be better off being nonexistent in this dimension.
mY Synapses...
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