Misery

I feel wretched.

I can’t help wondering why people like those even exist in this planet. A planet such as Earth which is already filled with hate, lies and betrayal. A place that acts much like a prison cell, entrapping you inside until you reach your bursting point, after trying to keep all the stinging sentiments to yourself. The inevitable misery, eh? Why, why do they have to subsist by your side when all that they’ll give you is pain? That sort of pain that cannot be removed by any method, the one that is etched on your heart for the rest of your life. Forever, in short. They aren’t doing things to you directly, and yet you can feel that the dark motive is there—it is pretty evident; they treat other people in such a charming sort of way, but if it is you, the treatment will be hideous. They won’t yell at your face, kick you or something equally blunt. But if you’re someone like me—a person who, most of the time, prefers to think than to speak—you’ll realize how pertinent every single details can be, that each action might convey a hidden meaning: one that will only cause you to sadden. I’m not being hit by paranoia, just so you know. If ever you thought of that, then I guess you don’t experience what I’m feeling. How lucky of you, then, if that’s the case.

I just don’t understand them, period. And I guess that they will never understand me too, because if they did, they would have been better individuals in my eyes.

They are the kind of people that just make you feel plainly miserable. The kind that hinders you to fulfill your aspiration.

Miserable.

I guess that’s the word. Forgive me, I can’t explain any better than that. Because if I even try, I’m afraid I just might say something unpleasant, which I try to avoid as much as possible if I can.

Oh, how wretched I feel right now.

I’m not talking about several persons. No, not one either.

I’m not going to tell. Go figure.