Life - The Question Mark
I could write a novel on things I hate about life.
But I could write an even bigger novel
on things I have to be grateful about in life.
Is there a point when the tears just stop flowing?
Do the tears really come from that little tear duct?
Or are they from the heart?
Why do we cry in sadness?
When do you realize that crying doesn't stop the pain, nor does it help it?
Some of my friends have told me that in the middle of the night,
their parents check up on them.
I am pretty sure that my parents don't do that.
In fact, sometimes, they don't even care to check up on me if I go to sleep without saying good night;
I don't think that means they love me less.
I really don't.
Sometimes I want to hurt myself because of the trouble I cause them.
But instead, when I speak, I blame them.
It probably is my fault.
I wish I could punish myself.
But pain hurts. I don't want pain.
Even if I do deserve it.
Why do we have feelings and emotions?
Why can't we just be dry and uncaring?
Why does there have to be pain in life?
Why is everything about life a question?
A mystery that cannot be solved?
An impossible puzzle, of sorts.
I don't want to strive to be perfect –
I want to strive to be happy.
But what you want doesn't matter in this world;
what matters is what your authority wants.
I think you care about me.
Whenever I ask to do something,
you say I'm your only child and losing me would be devastating.
But if you had another kid,
would it make it okay to lose me?
Or maybe you just say that excuse because you
don't want me to happy.
I don't think that, but it's a valid point.
There is no one in this house I can talk to, or trust. Sometimes my friends can't even help me.
I feel alone in the world.
Who can I tell anything to?
How do I trust anyone?
Life is a big question mark.
I only wish I could put an answer to the question.
But I could write an even bigger novel
on things I have to be grateful about in life.
Is there a point when the tears just stop flowing?
Do the tears really come from that little tear duct?
Or are they from the heart?
Why do we cry in sadness?
When do you realize that crying doesn't stop the pain, nor does it help it?
Some of my friends have told me that in the middle of the night,
their parents check up on them.
I am pretty sure that my parents don't do that.
In fact, sometimes, they don't even care to check up on me if I go to sleep without saying good night;
I don't think that means they love me less.
I really don't.
Sometimes I want to hurt myself because of the trouble I cause them.
But instead, when I speak, I blame them.
It probably is my fault.
I wish I could punish myself.
But pain hurts. I don't want pain.
Even if I do deserve it.
Why do we have feelings and emotions?
Why can't we just be dry and uncaring?
Why does there have to be pain in life?
Why is everything about life a question?
A mystery that cannot be solved?
An impossible puzzle, of sorts.
I don't want to strive to be perfect –
I want to strive to be happy.
But what you want doesn't matter in this world;
what matters is what your authority wants.
I think you care about me.
Whenever I ask to do something,
you say I'm your only child and losing me would be devastating.
But if you had another kid,
would it make it okay to lose me?
Or maybe you just say that excuse because you
don't want me to happy.
I don't think that, but it's a valid point.
There is no one in this house I can talk to, or trust. Sometimes my friends can't even help me.
I feel alone in the world.
Who can I tell anything to?
How do I trust anyone?
Life is a big question mark.
I only wish I could put an answer to the question.