I hate it when I can't hold in my sadness.

I pretend to smile as I walk by
They don't know my real mind

They dont see how I cry all the time.

Why would you want to be me?

The night mocks me, the person sitting inside me no longer resembling me, the words that no longer carefully jump out of my mouth, from my heart that has dried up like firewood.

Some people don't know what they have until it's gone." "But what about the ones who do know? The ones who never took a damn thing for granted? Who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most. Isn't it so much worse for them?"

“Sometimes I feel so blue, darling. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

— Sylvia Townsend Warner from Selected Stories; “A Speaker from London.”

If this doesn't say everything

I feel very tired, as if I was in an empty war fighting myself.

Thoughts hub

For those of you who wonder what abditory means