I get angry at the world for not letting me in, for shutting me out, for laughing at me, for mocking me, for blaming me, for hating me…
When I’m depressed, life becomes so meaningless that I forget my passions and lust for life, for the adventurous life I fantasize in Manhattan where everything happens, live, right in front of your eyes…I cry myself out and feel sorry for myself, but deep down I know I’ll be okay the next day, I know the world won’t win, I know I’ll get myself out no matter what’s in front of me, even if it is my own desperate image, the part of me that wants to cry and be left alone, the one who craves for attention, the one who needs to exist, even if it is an existence only for others…
A lot of us go through these feelings, this hopelessness and fear of the world around us, the fear of meeting new people, fitting in, being loved, being noticed, and…existing.
The window of hope is not always open, my window too sometimes shuts me out, the rain pours outside and leaves me trapped inside, but I can open it if I want to…it is never too late…