tiny-ness, futile-ness… speechless-ness… cast away sort of feeling… as if there is no home to be ’cause I shouldn’t be in any house… as if I’m a loser. And when I say I ain’t a loser, my inside looks down at me and asks me to justify this claim of its… but at the same time I am failing to speak.. even failing to wish..
GCC must work.. I must work.. deactivated facebook.. Why do I wish to disappear…?
Few days back, a stranger girl–a friend of my flatmate–asked why I don’t have a girlfirend. I told her that I ain’t cool enough. But on the inside i kept telling myself that I don’t consider myself deserving one, not yet….
and all of it ’cause sketched a lot?
Having sketched always leaves me… I dunno… kinda satisfied, kinda low, calm… feeling weak… but seeing the true picture… pitying myself maybe… shouldn’t be this way though.