Convicted.

We always try to fly away. To spread 'wings', an ideal that every man and women possess. We dream of a future where there are no more limits. But there are many of them indeed and sadly, their origin is usually our own hearts. Comfort, we revel in them. Being caressed by soft emotions and security. The look on his eyes. The monthly wages. The feeling of our skin in bed, covered and sheltered by soft linens and the freedom of time. Where we let go, but not completely as we sleep by imagining tomorrow and wake by regretting yesterday.

There I was, hoping and wandering foolishly in an illusion of a world that had more comfort. More love and realising the reality was a luxurious torture. I breathe to sleep at night and I sleep to breathe for a desired tomorrow. That so far had no progress. Because I am still here, under these walls and bricks. Tucked between the sheets and anxieties.

As time sing to me a lullaby, to drift me further into mortality. Until I wake at 9.30 PM, aged 60 and regretting my life by the foot of the bed. All alone with sad, abandoned dreams.

Glass heart.

She was a child of darkness. And though there was light in her eyes, it diminished as time passes by. She loved you, with her heart overflowing with emotions. Lips laced with promises. One neither could have kept, as her heart fractured open. You were the light of her monotonal life, painting colors like a painter. But soon you faded, like soft crayons and flaky watercolors. You were a shade darker every day. And so she smiled, but tears had already stained her skin. And despite her effort to reach out, to touch you once again... There was a huge crack in her soul that she could never jump over. She was broken and you were the lines of fractures in her glass heart.

Cold, sharp and exhausted heart. Hanging on foolishly for a love that was not meant to be.

I AM ALRIGHT

life is like this endless cycle of up and downs.

but for some people, even when it goes up traces of the times when you were in the darkest pit follows.
as for me it  never leaves. i am NEVER enough for my self that each and everything i do becomes a disappointment to my self. i am tired almost every day, trying to convince myself that im doing fine when for sure i am not.

and it shows, because even when i try to find meaning in life.... falling in love with reality is like asking me to swallow shards of glass and tell me that it will save my guts.

when obviously it's not. reality sucks and i hate it. every part of reality makes me throw up in my mouth and each breathe i take is like sand paper in my nose forcing way their way in. i am so messed up that even when i break not a single soul notice and they assume i am fine

WELL I AM NOT

because i am someone who does not need pity but understanding. i never let them know of how shitty my day feels, yes i crawl into my bed and covers my head and look like a person just died but well reality never really gives two damned shits to lacking souls like mine.

and the world never really see people like me, people who are just to messed in their own mind. constantly asking the lord to make themselves better when we all know its useless.
how better can i get? how far can i really go? how much longer do i need to stay afloat so that the audience of reality would assume that i am  doing fine?

well im sore.

all over in all of limbs it is pulsing out of my veins and i have no fucking strength to endure.
it hurts and there is nothing that i can do. a plague of heart is incurable. and it hurts more to know that even sometimes the people we had believed would save us is the reason we're drowning.

i am going through that now, accepting the fact that my saviour would just be my death. and i am tired.
and unless i break out into tears and crawl on this dirty floor, only then people would understand the pain i am carrying each day.

so fine, i'll bear all this pain quietly even when my knees rust and falter.

would you?

don't you think that behind all those darkness within his character there are truth behind it?
personally, that is where i think reality is.

there are no sheer happiness, behind each smiles we are just a fake as the smile torn on joker's face. And we are worst, because it our own flesh that curls up and defy ourselves.

to know this, Mr. JOKER my answer is

i am. i am very much depressed.