a jaded kind of beautiful

Everyday, I wake up and think, there are all these people around me that might enjoy my being here, but the second I’m gone they would do nothing else but move on with their lives. I’m pretty convinced about it, but what if I disappear just to make certain? It’s a bleak and awfully selfish thought even for me, but at least I’m being honest.

And everyday that I wake up and think that, is just another excuse for me to think less and less of myself.

Then again maybe I am at fault at this. I am worthless and petty and grating – and just the fact that I know so makes me even much more inferior. I know I have no self-worth, and maybe this pushes people away and inhibits them from bothering to feel for me at all, but say I were to lie and tell myself that someday I’d find someone who would make me think that I deserve to be – and more importantly, feel – important, I know I’d be lying. More than selfish and sensitive and useless, I’d be a liar too.

Or maybe it’s intentional that people avoid genuinely investing themselves in me, because they think I don’t really care. But the truth is that I’ve always done so, only most of them don’t see it because I try to conceal my sentiments – for the sake of pride, maybe, because it’s all I’ve had since then. And even though I try to hide it, I’ve always cared for people more than they ever did for me.

I’ve had my fair share of people wanting to talk to me and extract the shortest of explanations for why I am the way I am and why I act the way I do, but it’s been a long time since I figured none of them really care. Maybe some almost do, for the sake of morbid curiosity. I’d deny it in front of everybody who pretends to be there for me, but I really want them to stop pretending. I just want anyone from all these people to tell me that I matter, to tell me sincerely that I am important in their life.

I guess I just want to feel for once that someone is afraid to lose me.