wretchedofthepond
Active member
...It aches so bad.
Guess what? There have been women in my life (believe it or not!) who have expressed interest in me... They have played that game of insecurity, hinting that they wanted to be a part of my world. They always play games with my soul, sending me through loops, until we both discover in the end that my world revolts them. Something I do, something I say, some weakness inside of me will always revolt them...
Every time I take off my mask, I unveal a weak, pitiful soul. I am unacceptable. Whenever I open my mouth, a revolting cough escapes. I feel as though I am incapable of living on these horrible terms...
My soul feeds on its own guilt and regret. It has greedily eaten itself inside-out; now all that remains is a hollow carcass that breeds a desire to feed on the hurt other souls.
I hate this language, with its limited expressions. This writing is an insult to my emotions. I feel smothered, without a proper outlet. I'm bitter and insecure and full of wrath and anxiousness, perhaps to spread the rejection I have received onto other hearts. And then heaps of guilt.
Am I the only one who lives in this brutal cycle?
Guess what? There have been women in my life (believe it or not!) who have expressed interest in me... They have played that game of insecurity, hinting that they wanted to be a part of my world. They always play games with my soul, sending me through loops, until we both discover in the end that my world revolts them. Something I do, something I say, some weakness inside of me will always revolt them...
Every time I take off my mask, I unveal a weak, pitiful soul. I am unacceptable. Whenever I open my mouth, a revolting cough escapes. I feel as though I am incapable of living on these horrible terms...
My soul feeds on its own guilt and regret. It has greedily eaten itself inside-out; now all that remains is a hollow carcass that breeds a desire to feed on the hurt other souls.
I hate this language, with its limited expressions. This writing is an insult to my emotions. I feel smothered, without a proper outlet. I'm bitter and insecure and full of wrath and anxiousness, perhaps to spread the rejection I have received onto other hearts. And then heaps of guilt.
Am I the only one who lives in this brutal cycle?