Real world.

So this is the real world?

Where people don’t really care about how you feel.

Where people only mean half of what they say.

Where they hide behind their true intentions.

Call me weak, call me a quitter, or call me a failure. But I want no parts of this type of life.

Death seems better than reality to be frank.

I see humans, but do not see humanity!

So this is the real world, where people only half care about your feelings, and heart.

They could careless.

They value other things.

But not the things worth valuing.

So this is the real world.

Where people would like to help, but not wholeheartedly help.

They don’t care.

No one really cares.

We are full of shit.

Imperfect human beings, and none of this even matters.

Why am I here?

Just take me where I lay.

I think I lived a good life. And this is my final conclusion. That the world doesn’t care. And I no longer care either.

I will write until I cannot anymore.

I will give what’s left of my heart.

And I will leave, I will leave with no intentions of ever coming back to this place.

I hate it here.

I hate it here.

I am starting to fall apart, and I hate myself. Don’t bother picking me up.

I am already down.

I am going deeper and deeper into the abyss.

Of loneliness and non-forgiveness.

I am pitiful.

And disgustingly sad, on this day of rejection, and insight of being hopelessly alone.