When I am happy, I can’t write anything.
But when I am all sad and alone and depressed and broken, that’s when I get to write a lot.
Until now, I still can’t understand why I am like that.
Maybe when we’re happy, we tend to let it be like that. I mean, we don’t question such. We feel like we all deserve to be just happy all the time.
But when we’re hurt, we tend to question everything. Literally. Like why us? When we’ve been all good, why do we still get hurt? Do we deserve to go through all that?
Just something to ponder about.
You don’t get to play with my feelings, leave, and then come back whenever you want and expect me to be the same person. It doesn’t work that way. I’m not a toy that you can play with whenever you get bored. I’m actually human, and I actually have feelings.