Please keep it secret

After pondering for a little while, whether I should make a new account for writing or not, I decided not to. I had always loved writing, I loved when people are moved by my writing. But today, If I were to look at myself from others’ point of view, I’d say I’d never loved writing at all. I had not posted anything in my old blog. A blog which I care so much about that I had kept active since 7th grade up until 6 years later. I used to write everything to my heart’s content. But now, I feel so afraid to write. I’m afraid of showing how I truly feel, afraid of showing my weakness. I am truly afraid to show the horrible, horrible feelings and thoughts that I have. And to be honest, I don’t know why I am scared of that all.

Maybe, I don’t want people to know that I try so hard. Maybe, I don’t want people to know that I feel inferior. But worst of all, I don’t want people to know that after trying so hard, I am still… just me. And I hate that even to me, being me is not enough, as ungrateful as it may sound.

I have this really really crooked thought, that I kinda hate everyone a little bit. But, I hate everyone just as much as I need them. And I am torn between pushing them away, or asking for help. I am miserable, I truly am. And I am the sole reason for it. Sometimes, I feel bad for people. I am sorry that I made you think I am a nice person, If I ever made you feel that way. I am just utterly mean beyond imagination. And I’d easily cut ties if I ever feel the need to.

I used to love writing and I used to love telling people what I thought and how I feel. I was indeed a nicer person, then. I just loved everyone unconditionally. All the thoughts and feelings I have were beautiful both in reality and written. Sadly, it’s not who I am today. And it nearly kills me to keep pretending like a nice person that I was. This is the secret that I have been hiding for the past years. The secret that if for once I let my fondness of writing overflow me, I’d tell everything.