I’m scared, of each second, each day. I’m in fear of new faces and old, the feelings they arouse in me. I feel like an intruder in my skin. The breaths I take should be silent, my movements, unnoticeable. No trace of me should be there, not in being, not in memories. I find myself distributing pieces of me to make myself believe, I too exist.
Someday I fear, I’ll vanish from this space and no one will remember me. For I am that way, forgettable, ignorable. I feel I should stick to the wall and become a part of it or maybe if I’m silent enough, people will forget all about me.
Yet it never happens.
I’ve known bad all my life. I wish all were equally bad, so that I could blame them for being the way I am.
But it is all me, only me to blame. I carry the brunt of it everyday.
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