Questions

They get annoying;

Always questioning you.

Are you okay?

Why are you sad?

Are you tired?

You don't seem okay…

They're always jumping to conclusions.

It's irritating

To know that people,

These said to be "friends",

Think they know you better

Than you, yourself do,

When in reality, they don't know you

AT

ALL.

They think they know.

The truth is,

I make up things

When they want to know

Something about me.

I give the same information to everyone,

Making them believe

I've got a perfect life.

To best friends though,

You leak real information,

But sometimes modify it,

To make them believe too.

No one but yourself knows

That you feel like cutting

That you hate attention

That you feel like dying

That you secretly cry at night.

People think you have no real problems, whether it's with

School,

Work,

Or simply,

Your feelings.

They think you're void of emotions,

Like they are,

But you do and you're not.

They always bombard you

With an endless flow of questions,

Because it would be impossible for them to truly understand.

Headaches come with the passing

Seconds

Minutes

Hours

Months

Years

Decades.

You feel surrounded;

They popped your "personal bubble".

You're vulnerable now,

Afraid to break now that your armour is broken.

It wouldn't be wrong to say that part of it is your fault,

For being so reserved,

For not "opening up",

But anyway, you would have ended up where you are now,

Except earlier.

So you snap,

Snap at everyone.

You feel crushed

By your fate and destiny.

Each happy ending

Is a brand new beginning, right?

But what happens

When that ending is not a happy one?

When fairy tales don't come true?

You can't change your fate,

Your destiny.

You're not Naruto.

You can't do anything

To change your future.

You're stuck-

Not knowing

What's going to happen.

Are you going to die from

A sickness?

Natural causes?

Murder?

Blood loss?

Car accident?

Train accident?

Drugs?

Or are you going to find

The perfect someone

To live the rest of your life with?

The person who will pull you out

Of the black hole,

The black hole you've dug yourself,

And have inevitably fallen in.

The person who won't need to ask you questions,

Who will find the answers in you,

Yourself,

Your being.

No, that won't happen,

Happy endings don't exist;

Not in your world at least.

So above your already constant struggle,

You also become lonely, right?

Regardless of those thoughts, sometimes I think

What if you take your life

In both your hands

And try your hardest to steer it away from

The path it's on?

Maybe, just maybe,

You'll be able to build a new one.

You won't know where

It'll lead you,

Or where you'll end up,

But you've got to jump,

Take chances,

And let destiny handle it from here.