my diary

i never thought i would open this book again to write in it
but i don't have anyone to talk to
so i thought to write here once more. here goes nothing

continued like eachday

feeling down
feeling upset
thats how i always felt . fell and probably will continue

i am consumed by them

i am not telling my self to give up
and i am not telling my self to ,, to hate or despise or even care
i just can't help it some times

i always sit here
at this very spot in my room
next to my shallow window
i ask my self
hows it like to be happy
hows it like to see someone i love or like
hows it like to smile

i ask myself those things
because i can't seem to remember how it felt like

my mind doesn't tell thoughts
they tell ideas
ideas that could never come true
but ideas i can fight for

what are those thing that matter most to me
what are those things that i care so much about

look at me sitting here writing what ever comes to my mind

i wonder why do i close my eyes and open them everyday
everytime i open them
i only see , hate , anger , fear and myself in the mirror
i am blind to see what i need most
and what i want the most

and if i close my eyes ,
i will only see the same
hating every person , anger towards every word from them
and the fear of things becoming worse than they already are

every person i saw as a friend left
seems every person i become close to i lose

i .. i ... i.. don't know what to do anymore

this book
i hate writing in it
i hate everything and i hate every one .....
i don't care anymore.......
i just , i just .... i just need someone to be there for me

i'm dead inside
i'm losing time
i can't show anyone how i feel
because i have something to conceal
in my memories
i can run away
but i can't hide

who will cry
when i'm about to die
when my eyes won't open again
i geuss no one will

all those words i wrote
i think they're pointing to a certain thought
to a certain feeling
i am alone ........

my diary