Dear Diary : Lonely Nights

I write,
sometimes when I am sad.
I write, 
sometimes when I am lonely.
I write,
sometimes when I am afraid.
I write, 
sometimes when I feel things.
But mostly,
I write,
because nobody listens.

...

"There once was a girl,
who told everyone they were beautiful.
There once was a girl,
who believed in the light at the end of the tunnel.
There once was a girl.
she shined so bright.
There once was a girl,
that late into the night listened to the voices inside her own head.
There once was a girl,
who got quieter and silent
and gloomier and darker.
There once was a happy girl,
but not anymore."

. . .

I was once sad and lonely,
having nobody to comfort me.
So I wore a mask that always smiled,
to hide my feelings behind a lie.

I keep so much pain inside myself. 

I grasp my anger and loneliness and hold it in my chest.
It has changed me into something I never meant to be.
It has transformed me into a person
I do not recognize;
But I don't know how to let it go.

There's a reason I said I'd be happy alone. It wasn't because I thought I'd be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone and then it fell apart, I might not make it.
It's easier to be alone, because what if you learn that you need love and you don't have it?
What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart?
Can you even survive that kind of pain?
Losing love is like organ damage.
It's like dying the only difference is death ends.
This? It could go on forever.

. . .

I have friends, family, social life, everything that I need,
yet most of the time I feel so lonely and empty.
Feels like I don't really exist in their life.

I try and tell myself, "you're not alone."
Yet when I get in bed at night, my sadness envelopes me rather than my blankets,
and my head is popped up by a monster of thoughts rather than my pillow,
and by the weight in my chest, it feels as if the mattress is laying on top of me rather than the latter.
And all I know through this confusion, is when I sit up and take a look around,
the only person there is me,
and the only person who cares is me,
and the only person who understands is me.
Gosh, am I alone.

I try so hard.. I think I'm happy, but why am I so sad?

. . .

Sometimes,
I feel tired, sad, and miserable for no reason at all.

Sometimes,

I suppose I am happy.
Like when I'm with my friends,
throwing my head back and covering my mouth
as I shake with laughter at a joke someone just made.

But then day turns to night
and my carefree grin turns into an unexplainable sadness,
etched on my face like a scar.
And I lay in bed,
thinking about all the things I wish I could say,
all the things I'm too afraid to admit,
even with only pen and paper and mind.

It's night like these when I realize;
I am many things,
I am happy and sad,
outgoing and shy,
rambunctious and quiet.
But mostly,
I am just empty.

I hate the nights where I feel so hallow inside.
I feel so damn empty and out of place.
I hate the nights where my mind wanders to the unknown and all I return with is sadness.
I hate counting the tears that rush down my cheeks and collect upon my pillow.
I hate that the only thing I have at night to comfort me is my loneliness
and the only thing I feel surrounding me is darkness.
I hate it all.



01/Jun/2014
"This is just sadness painted in pretty words.
I never meant for you to know, but couldn't keep from telling you."