We're all as lost in rust and frost
and don't say otherwise
because if you don't feel the same
maybe your time is yet to come

But worry not you're in good companies
if only us would all share stories
if only us all would admit and accept
dancing along with no regret

Hanging out with the wrong crowd
just to feel that I belong
every night a different crowd
trying to play along,
but nothing seems right
only to stick out like a sore thumb
the sounds of the crowd muffled drowned by my own thoughts
non-existent cheers to the genuine me
muddy grounds and misty rain
fake laughters masking the emptiness inside
laughing only to play along

Someday maybe I'll get back to me
Someday maybe you'd find the old you
what your future tells, I can't say for sure,
but for now let's just pour us another
Swim along, I won't let you sink
you can hold my hand for support
and I'll hug you 'til you feel better

Sometimes,
I feel that 'Growing up' is the only mistake I ever did.

I want to scream until I convulse into a ****** rage of anger.
I can't believe what these figures tell me.
They shrug me off like an old rancid carpet of emotions.
They don't want my problems, but God forbid I ignore theirs and suddenly I'm the villain.
Not only do I have to keep limping as I carry the weights of myself, but I also have to carry one, no, two, no... five.
Five.
And everyone acts as if the Prozac has magically given me the HP boost to carry this on.
I ask for help when my sore body can't hold anymore.
I just feel like--
"IT'S YOUR FAULT I'M THIS WAY."
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO AGREE WITH ME ON EVERYTHING NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS."
"YOU HAVEN'T HELPED ME AT ALL."
"PLEASE STROKE MY EGO MORE AS I PRETEND TO BE DEPRESSED LIKE YOU."
...Should I remind you of what I did for you?
How I tore my ligaments just so you can keep walking all over me?
How I forced to bite my tongue so hard that I began to ***** my own blood?
How I stayed through your ******* problems that had me rolling my eyes out of their sockets?
If only I can pretend to feel this **** as much as you do.
If only I could be a stone that you resemble to.
If only I could be so self-absorbing and privileged like you.
I wish I didn’t have to feel like this. I wish I wasn't starved of happiness that I rightfully deserve.
That I've actually worked for.
Unlike you.
Who was handed everything to them since birth.
Maybe that’s why you have the tendency to run away from your problems.
You’re scared.
You can’t grow up.
You think everyone will conform to your idealization of how a life is lived.
Because maybe that's what your parents wrongfully taught you.
You want to be the savior of those who are depressed.
You use their illness to your advantage to get some sick satisfaction off their pain.
And when they're left to tell you how wrong you are for that, you s--
"WELL HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP?"
"IT'S NOT MY FAULT THEY'RE DEPRESSED."
"I TRIED TO HELP BY STATING THEY WERE FINE EVERY TIME."
"NOW PLEASE LET'S TALK ABOUT ME!"
... It's atrocious that one will pretend to be some God to a person that is losing their faith.
These sad, sick people will keep stroking your ego because they have nothing else, no one else, but you.
Or so you think.
And you know that. You will keep playing this stupid game called Life by using cheat codes on single player for your own self-indulgence.
You will keep acting like the hero for the distressed damsel waiting in the other castle.
And you will keep quitting the game in a rage when you're sidelined by other quests.
It truly is selfish and disgusting.
But what you may not know, is that the damsel in distress has her own strategy of escape.
She has had to survive this game called Life amplified to Hard Mode.
She knows the way of this unfair game, ghosted to seem like a helpless poor soul in need of salvation from some sort of cowardly knight.

But what you, or anyone doesn't know,
Is she is almost at the end credit screen.
Where there is a happily ever after,
Made possible, completely without you.