king curser is staring at me. Words are fighting to come out. My mind is constantly spinning, searching for a way to unleash these thoughts that are trapped inside. I panic. I question my talent and the praise I’m constantly receiving, as I wonder if I’m really as talented as people think. Maybe it’s all a prank, and maybe they’re just being nice. Maybe my talent is an illusion for loneliness. Maybe the emptiness is portrayed as a skill because there’s nothing else to call it. Who am I? That’s the question I ask myself as I stare into the mirror. The person that everyone sees, even though I wear my emotions on my sleeve, are still completely and utterly misunderstood and fragile.
I’m scared of reality: there’s this fear of not being good enough that surfaces when it gets quiet. The reflection of a person trapped in a society filled with carelessness. I care too much, about everything, and that leaves me vulnerable. I overthink the smallest moments, turning them into monsters that stare at me as if I’ve done everything wrong, and they judge me.
Life has a crazy way of showing you the world in a way that can be painfully honest. There’s moment when you think that you have it all figured out, until you don’t.
I look around me and see people that are numb to it all.<