There are those days that you just want to curl up in your bed and isolate yourself from the world outside. No matter what you do, there is always that indescribable-grieve, I shall say- that constantly stays at the depth of your heart and at the back of your mind. Before you know it, silently and slowly, tears come streaming down your face. You would laugh at the sudden appearance of the salty liquid in a normal occasion, but the familiar tingle of laughter seems so foreign at the moment.
You wallow in self pity, getting blows after blows from your own mocking voice inside of your head; Why do I have to live like this? Why do I feel so alone? Why am I so fucking fat and ugly? Why can't I be pretty like any other girl on this goddamn planet? Why does my family hates me? Why is it that everything I do is wrong? Why can't I be happy for once in my life?
Why? Why? Why?!
With all the questions, come rage. So strong that it makes you cry harder and harder by the minute. Your chest heaves and your breathing becomes heavy. You get mad. Mad at everything, mad at everyone, you're even mad at yourself. It seems like the world is nothing but a hellhole and not one soul in it understands what you're going through. To them, your life is beautiful, perfect. Why wouldn't they? All they see are your smiles and your laughters, there's nothing wrong with you. Oh, how very wrong they are.
And to me, that day is today.