Numb.

I'm falling to pieces - Breakeven, The Script

Right now, I'm just angry.
Angry, confused and non-understanding of the world.

I just feel like laying motionless on the cold floor,
Kicking, punching, bashing something to a pulp,
Then crumpling up into a pitiful ball to cry and wail my heart out like a four-year-old as I declare self-pity.

My head is pounding with rage, my heart, of frustration. Sorrow.

I feel consumed by sheer cold numbness.
Maybe that's why so many people don't mind slicing themselves open, huh?
To writhe in pain... A form of temporary self-assurance of their existence.
A slow narcotic compelling you to repeat it time and time again, slicing fresh wounds and shredding up old ones, because it never gets the message across.

I feel empty.
An empty shell, with what used to be a calm, bubbly, happy soul.
Now gone.

My mood to study, sleep, eat.
All gone.


This is the reality of the girl who hid quietly behind a the mask of falsity.
This is the reality of the girl who consoled herself, so self-assured, by pathetic lies.
This.

Is how I feel.

But please.
Let this be a passing phase.