I'm having strange feelings. Insecurity as usual and irrational thoughts in my mind that I know is just me being overly sensitive and paranoid. But I guess that comes from loneliness and the feeling of being left alone. So all my emotions are brimming, just a tiny push and it could send them tipping over the edge and spilling everywhere, making a mess out of everything. Staining everything in sight, and the closest around me can never be as beautiful as they were before, being marked, by my irrationality. Then things can't get back to the way they originally were.

That would be a nightmare, wouldn't it.

So I keep them bottled up. Sealing up the lid. Nevermind the cracks showing my the surface of my happy smiles and laughs. Nevermind that I am bursting on the inside. As long as I can keep up this facade, it works. The world continue to spin on its own axis, as I spin in the opposite direction, on my own axis. No one bothers to look closely enough that I am tilted a different way, or spinning a different way. As long as I seem like I am moving on with life, no one would notice these irregularities. As I type this down, I feel a weird sense of dis-attachment and distance, eventhough this post is by far my most personal. I realize that even to me, my feelings don't matter anymore.

Hence, how can they matter to anyone else?

I try to ease my feelings, venting on frivolous, useless things like clothes and products and other materialistic pursuits. I try to fix everything I felt was broken. I try to fill in everything I thought I lacked. But there's too many, isn't there? There will never be enough to make me even accept myself. It's as if I'll throw my money around to distract me from the inadequacy of it all. For that rush of something new and unspoilt.

I'm sure this is me being overly dramatic. This is me being overly sensitive. This is me, feeling sorry for myself, while the world dealt with larger issues. More important issues. This is me just being lonely. This is me just venting out nonsense.

Or this could be me, speaking the truth.

Nevertheless, it's still me.