Just.

Maybe, just maybe, I am not as happy as I thought I am.

I hate it when this feeling comes.

It makes me feel so empty.

So lonely.

So upset.

So regretful.

Like I miss something when I know I don't.

It makes me so agitated.

And I will want to think only negatively.

I start to hate myself when this is so.

I start to think that maybe I am missing out on everything that is mine.

Mine and only mine.

Why am I like this?

I hate my hair.

I hate my nose.

I hate my tummy.

I hate my thighs.

I hate my arms.

But, then again, I don't.

I love who I am.

Or do I?

I love my eyes.

I love my smile.

I love my ass.

I love my heart.

I love my soul.

I love myself.

Or do I?

Maybe, I should just shut up and sleep.

Maybe, I am just tired.

But, no.

I have started doing things I don't like.

I have started going against my will all the time now.

And so, it ends at me hating myself for torturing myself like this.

Why do I live?

Who do I live for?

Myself or you?

I am not a perfect woman.

I will never be.

I don't want to be.

I like having imperfections.

But, not like this.

Stop telling me what you like and what you don't.

Because, I have enough to know.

It has taken me ages to figure out my complicated self only this much.

And I have, but, a long way to go.

So, maybe, I should be just left alone.

Let me do it before I lose myself again.

Soon.

Very soon.

I was happy.

But, now it just hit me hard.

I am not happy.

People I thought loved me, don't.

People I thought wanted me, dont.

People I thought needed me, don't.

I thought I was in love.

With something no one could ever guess.

It was my world.

It still is.

But, I no more feel that same adrenaline rush that I felt the first time or so.

Why?

Maybe I am just forgetting who I really am.

Is that it?

Is that the answer to my confusion?

Am I forgetting who I am?

Am I beginning to pretend I am someone.

Everyone, but me?

Maybe I should just sleep.

Sleep my life away.

Because, surely, this will not be the last time.

And the next time it comes, I might think of killing myself.

Then, maybe I will fail in that too.

And then, I will lie in bed all my life.

Sucking away family's money for medical bills.

Maybe I am just tired.

Maybe I should just sleep.

-

And I can never be sure.

-

-

-

-

-

But, why does everything have to end with questions?

-

-

-

-

-

-

I feel, maybe I should just get myself pregnant.

I look like I am.

So why not just be it.

Right?

Then, I will enjoy my pregnancy to the fullest.

Splurge on ice-cream and chocolate.

And on clothes that fit only because they are maternity dresses.

And then I'll drag my baby in my belly along to shop for huge sweet earrings.

I will doll up before sleep.

Then, I will buy new shoes that fit only because they are made for obese people with fat feet.

And I will wear one of those flowing pink dresses with a baby-blue bow just under the breasts.

With a pair of matching snow-flake earrings.

With pretty make-up.

With nice comfortable heels.

Then, let me walk down my street like a swan.

Alone.

On a romantic silent night.

While the stars stare at me.

Proud to have been who I was all this while.

I will find a bench in the park.

And sit there with my baby.

.

.

.

.

.

And then with tears in my eyes, I will sing.

I will just sing.

Just sing.

Sing.

.

.

.

.

And never wake up.

Sweet.

.

.

.

.

.

I'm in love.

_