It seems like everyone is afraid and tired of emotion; like it's an unspoken rule to not speak of them. Then where do they leak to? They end up in cloudy black jars. Someone shines the strobe light on the jars, catching flashes of the murky waters, and leaves them alone to settle.

Waking up to a room of darkness does something to you.

---

I am guilty for being upset, for I feel too much and too easily. Things are kept in a Pandora's box, it'd be sorry if anybody opened it. It's been months yet i can't seem to solve the root of the problem; emotions still simmering beneath a surface. Muted.

The world is moving on, and so should you, and you think you are. The words hurt you so - it is telling when you can still remember every single one of it, and they shape the way you think.

Then stand up for yourself, move on. Why let yourself be affected when you know you're not being treated fairly?

--

Because you're unsure. Unsure if it's true that you make people want to mistreat you, because you do not know if you are good enough to be cared for. You do not know how to be well liked, even by the very few whom you care for. Efforts don't count, effects do.

The worst part is that you also ignore the ones whom you find tiring to be with - it makes a complete loop and there is no way out. It simply feels like reality that people do not deserve to be loved if they do not know how to be.