In the end

The hardest to love
Is not the weak
Nor the strong
Nor the timid
Nor the wrong
The hardest to love
Is the one
Who does not believe
To be deserving
As heartbroken, shattered
The pieces scattered
Saddened
Eyes closed
As if nothing matters
The hardest to love
Because lost
And despaired
Because left is no one
But one self
Alone.

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A sunny disaster

Some mornings, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and sigh deeply. I cast a quick glance at the reflection and a million thoughts go through my head. At work I wonder how my colleagues can stand looking at me. I really should pull myself together. If not for myself, then at least for them. For the sake of the others, I should care more. I tell myself that every day. I try to make an effort. But the sleepless nights are just becoming longer, they keep on accumulating, and I’ve become an expert at telling what time it is based on the moonlight. Dawn comes earlier nowadays. I wonder if it’s okay to wear sunglasses inside?

The tormenting

I googled melancholy. The second after I had typed it into the search field I knew I was in for a downfall. You see, I sometimes push myself into sadness. I provoke it. It’s as if my brain says, “Hey, you know what we haven’t thought about for a while? Yes, that’s right, unhappiness.” Perhaps I should thank my mind for those subtle thought notifications. The same gentle reminder usually goes hand in hand with shedding some tears.

“Oh, your tear channels seem to have tried up. Let’s see, how about this for today’s cavalcade of waterworks?” Cue search result. 0,35 seconds. 28 million hits.

Thank you Google. Thank you brain. Now I’m off to write. And I purposely didn’t put any mascara on today.