And I force it some days.
Because I feel terrible but I can't let it out.
And it goes on and on like a song that you put on repeat after hearing it the first time.
And it's there. The teary eyes vouch for it.
But it doesn't stain my face. And I want it to. So bad.
Not because I want people to notice my pain.
But because I hate that it won't let go of me. Like the tiny mole on my finger; no matter how much I pick on it.
It's like when Pooh bear mutters, Think think think and he taps his forehead each time, focusing on the act rather than the thought.
And some times I wonder whether I could lead a life as simple as that.
With not a care in the world of all these needs.
Not having to feel so strongly about being lonely but also loving being alone.