At some point
I started looking at the ground more then the sky
It’s hard even to breathe
I hold out my hand, but no one holds it
I’m a loser, loner
A coward who pretends to be tough
A mean delinquent
In the mirror,
You’re just a loser
BIGBANG – Loser
I’ve been crying a lot lately.
At times I felt like a crybaby and I wouldn’t want to cry, I would refuse to cry in my stubborn wish to look brave. Like most of people.
But things changed. There were times when I only cried in front of my friends, when I couldn’t hold myself together anymore. I never cried alone. It was like I was ashamed in front of myself. Somehow, I’m my greatest critic and I can’t stand myself being weak. That’s why I never cried alone.
Now I cry alone. Now I only cry when I’m alone.
I’m not so fierce anymore, but in the same time, I’m not so afraid anymore. I am not afraid of myself when I talk to myself. I just talk and talk and there’s no one to hear me, except the walls, refusing to accept my words, replying to me with echoes. I’m not afraid of the darkness surrounding me, because it’s already my home. It’s just a familiar sadness, that isn’t sadness at all, that I already got used to.
And most of the time, I’m numb and I don’t give a shit about anything at all. I go on with another failed Maths test even though I studied very hard. I’m not even upset about it and it feels like maybe, maybe I should cry, because I am not good enough yet again, but somehow, I am not sad at all. Somehow I get trough another judo fight when I was powerless and try my best to take the best out of it, even if there was nothing. Somehow I still hold onto memories that are no longer reality.
Is it just because I’ve been disappointed so many times? Do you really get used to such things?
I had two panic attacks last night. The good thing about is that my sister is on holidays, so there was no one there to hear me losing my breath. I thought of how much time goes to waste when I talk to myself, because honestly, I can do it for hours. I thought of an psychological experiment I made up half a year ago. I thought how my mother finally said it out loud:
“Yes Tara, you do have dyslexia.”
I though about my own thoughts, I thought that I’m actually pretty intelligent, but in the same time, so so so dumb, stupid and useless. I thought of an moment when someone wanted to take a look at my sketch book, but I refused, saying:
“You’ll just think I’m crazy.”
Like I am not.
And I started choking on all those thoughts, because it makes me so goddamn lonely when I think about how fucking crazy I am.Maybe I could laugh about it or cry my heart out because of it- whatever the case, in every way it’s just everything form my existance exploding because of the existance itself.
And I think I stopped crying and suffocating when I was so tired that I passed out. Maybe this night will be just the same. Maybe the night after won’t change either. Maybe, things will never change. But I’ll keep suffering trough those nights with every day new, yet old hope, believing that it’s my last time like this. because that’s all I got. If you want it or not, in the end all you got is hope and a wish for a change…
So throw it at me, all those nights, all those tears, all those fucked-up smiles, all those times when I failed, all those times when my weakness won over me. Just come, i don’t care. I’ll face everything that will want to fight me.
I’m just a loser who wishes greatness. I’m just a loser who craves love. I’m just a loser that will keep on failing and being a loser till they aren’t a loser anymore. Even if I am in the end, just the same.
Listen to Amazing BIGBANG’s song that inspired the title of this post here.