I look at my dad and I know that he loves me in his own twisted, conditional way. I can’t help but refuse the love he gives for it is not true but can’t help but yearn for it at the same time.
You see, I’ve never been loved so I wouldn’t know how it feels.
And that goes for everyone I know as well.
We grow up and look and wish we were born somewhere different, somewhere less suffocating, somewhere we can love and feel freedom without lingering fears of getting caught.
Somewhere where our existence isn’t a sin.
Glimpses of said freedom is what makes us happy but at the end of each night we go back home and reality creeps in. We feel so trapped and restricted and all we can seem to do about it is cry.
We grow depressed, we dream of a day where our parents accept us. (For me it’s just the day that I leave this place)
I want to leave this place
I want to go and see the world and wear whatever and speak my mind
I want to feel as I am my own person
And yet I can never leave
And so all I can do is **** myself
Life’s a dead end anyway
I can’t seem to grow the ***** to take it back
And yet it hurts me immensely that it is in the hands of my father
In the hands of society
In the hands of family members and everyone else
Just because I was born with a ******* ******.
and so I will take my life someday
Not tomorrow or next week
But someday when I am brave enough and weak
maybe then my life will reach its peak?
I know for certain that even when I leave people will still speak.
i still can’t say goodbye even when I have nothing else to say
So until I finally do it
I’ll smile at you and tell you to have a good day.