I’m just tired.

‚ÄčI’m tired of the feign love.
I’m tired of the feign friendships.
I’m tired of being let down everytime.
I’m tired of being hurt.
I’m tired of trying.
I’m tired of pretending to be fine when I’m not.
I’m tired of my flaws.
I’m tired of feeling broken, damaged, worthless.
I’m tired of letting people know I exist.
I’m tired of being a third wheel.
I’m tired of being attached to people.
I’m tired of letting people in my lives and burning me up.
I’m tired of the fake promises.
I’m tired of all the lies.
I’m tired of being treated like shit.
I’m tired of holding it all in.
Yes. And now, I’m tired of being tired.

~Sapphire

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Eccedentesiast.

Failures pushed her. She saw no hope. It wasn’t a great day; but like most of the days she felt what nobody ever understood. ‘Building special memories?’, she thought was just a misnomer. The urge to scream ended up with nail marks on her hand. The clutter she had built ended up with blood on the floor. And the dark days ended up with wet pillows at night. 

It wasn’t the end of her life. It wasn’t the good time either. But she had waited enough for the beautiful days to come back, she had waited enough for the people around her to understand how harsh it feels on hearing those words, she had waited enough for those special people to come back in her life, she had waited too long; this just had to happen. 

The pressure of scheduled tests wasn’t easy to handle. And those thoughts, those words rang in her ear every single time she opened the books. Fudgeling, made it worse. 

Life was challenging her. And it had been too long, she failed and was left in a worse state.

Her heart ached. Her strength was lost. She needed someone to hug her and say they’re there for her. She needed someone to stay. She needed a little love. She needed to breathe.

Tough to get up.

Days went by. Time never stopped. It was getting tougher. She wasn’t prepared to face anything that came towards her. Failures had already pulled her down many times, she was afraid that this could be the next. 

Every single time she gathered the pieces and tried to get up, someone/something pushed her with a larger force each time. The force is so large, so strong that the pieces become even smaller. She never gave up but the last experience was so bitter that the present has never been sweet enough. 

Nothing favoured her. Neither did she herself. 

11pm yesterday…

It grew darker. The moon shone brighter. City lights filled the city with life. It was comparitively quiet. 

She stood there in the balcony gazing the sky, waiting for a shooting star. She wanted to make a wish. A wish, uncertain to be true. It was getting tough and the pain in her throat made it tougher. But she kept on gazing; because, it was a last hope.