i've always had a hard time saying what i really felt. I'm used to disguising them with laughter, memes and sarcasm. Or distracting myself. At the end of the day, though, when I'm alone – I sit and think about how depressed I really am. Or how unhappy I am as I hide behind a falsified mask. I'm tired of being the one who makes an effort. I'm tired of being the only one pursuant to my supposed connections. I'm tired of being the disposable one.

I feel alone in this household all the time. I feel like a stranger to my friends all the time.

So, I try to meet strangers in the safest way possible and immerse myself in their stories. Try to be their friend. I escape what's causing me to hurt internally when I help and heal other people. When I listen to them.

When I distract myself from my "self" by immersing myself in other people's company, I find myself wondering if it is loneliness or escapism. I feel caged and entangled in the personal hell of fear of being misunderstood, so to heal those wounds of mine I understand other people as well, hoping for it to be returned.

But deep down, I never wanted to be neglectedly desperate to the point I had to confide in people I barely knew. I wanted my friends to show up. I wanted the people I loved to be there for me, truly. All I wanted was to be held by a friend and to be told I am loved and understood and I don't have to try so hard in order to be.