Everyone says that there is no so-called destiny, there is only something you create, even if the world turns year after year, you are only a tiny fragment in this second. While you were alive, you just waited in vain, wasting decades waiting for a call, a letter, or a meeting from someone or something to reassure yourself. But that never will or seems to be happening, it really won't. So again you spend time blankly regretting...or blankly hoping that something good will happen next, making you feel like you're not isolated, making you feel your presence, making you feel loved....
And the truth is, I'm angry; and the truth is, I'm sad; and the truth is, I feel like I've been hurt for so many fucking years. And at the same time, I kept pretending I was okay, adjusting, going...
I don't know why, maybe it's because nobody wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own misfortunes.
I just want to find a place to put it.
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