Why Is It This Way?
I’ve spent hours obsessing over why I am not good enough. Hours loss, standing in front of the mirror, studying my face, wondering if I’m not pretty enough. Reading back old conversations and wondering if I’m too annoying, too needy or too much.
Still couldn’t answer why do I really had to beg and fight for love, for attention, for efforts, from the ones I love the most? Why don’t I receive it by their own will? Why is it this way? I still question, will anyone ever stick around? I try so hard but I guess maybe I’m not worthy of all this in the end.
Trying to love everyone selflessly, I start to compromise. And you know what, it gets darker and suffocating as we start compromising, may it be a compromise with situations, with people, with instincts or with our own feelings. But I still choose to compromise, so that I’m able to love people in the right way. But do they really understand that? Do they really respect my love? Why is it this way? This shit leaves you all dull and gloomy from inside no matter how much you smile on the outside.
Sometimes when the world sleeps, I sit back and watch myself crumble into the midnight calm, still trying to heal from things I don’t talk about and sometimes regretting for loving people more than I should love myself. Just trying to answer 'Why is it this way?'
Why do we always choose people who don’t really value us to the extent we value them? Why aren’t we able to choose people who choose to ignore the world for us, instead of ignoring us? Why do people make you question your value in their life? Why do they have to make you think that you are a fool for you "overlove?" And this way I question myself if I really have someone in my life who’s afraid of losing me the way I’m afraid of losing them? Am I good enough to be prioritized? Do I really make a fool of myself if I overlove?
"And like this I sit in the midst of a very ugly voyage. I know I’m not going to quit easily but I keep waiting for that one day when maybe I realize that I should’ve treated people they way they treat me." And like this quietly staring at the wall, without any expression at my face, I sometimes blame myself for the way I am, and the other time still question if I really matter, thinking
"Why is it this way?"