Snuggle bugle

As I sit here all I can think about is my world is so small but I’ve seen so much in such a little time. But does seeing things actually qualify as experiencing things? Have I really lived or have I just repeatedly watched it from the side lines, which I keep repeatedly doing. I know I need something, something that probably qualifies as help, but sometimes just having the openness of talking is all someone needs, even if it every now and then. But I have a little difficulty with that, and its internally frustrating. I can quite easily live my life solo but I also crave the comfort of another human, but for that to simply work you have to be able to communicate. Every word that you say people reply with a quick answer, they don’t always hear what you are trying to say. Sometimes in cases you have to be careful for what you say in case others take it the wrong way. Everything has to be watched or said correctly all in the case that someone can simply read or hear it wrongly. Always on edge. Id love to talk, even if its pure nothingness but no one is truly trustworthy anymore, and that’s the sad thing. It burns in my lungs, it makes my voice box close, tears brim on the eyelids, yet the words don’t tumble. I could simply write it, but what’s the point. Its just endless words of internal suffering and no one bothers to comment or ask the simple annoying question ‘are you okay’ Obviously I’m not. It hurts when people say that ‘you’re emotionless’ ‘don’t like seeing you like this’ urm… dude I’m not freaking emotionless I control my emotions, and its to an extend that its killing my soul. I hate being seen as an uncaring human, I hate the fact that people simply look at me and see that there’s something wrong. Yeah I’m breaking on the inside but I’m normal on the outside. I’m not asking for someone or everyone to change my life or direct it as such. Im just asking for someone to actually be hundred percent loyal and trustworthy, but I get it. Not many people like that exist. Ive put myself in a bubble, all my own doing. Im able to do so much but I always stop myself, fear is the main one. So many fears. Then I think and I ask myself whats the point in doing it all? Whats truly the point? There’s simply nothing wrong with me, I’m just a selfish creature who wishes for some comfort but denies myself of that pleasure .

-internally conflicted

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