FORLORN PLACES

Dear worrying self,

I know I'm not perfect. 

I have flaws. Too many flaws,

Sometimes I'd probably need more attention,

Other times I'd want no affection.

And most of the times I'd just need a hug and a shoulder to cry on.

I'm probably not the kind of man you want in your life.

Maybe I'm too troublesome and my life's chaotic.

Maybe along the way you'll get tired of my depressed self.

Maybe you'll get irritated when my anxiety kicks in.

I don't want you to promise that you'll always be there.

But I want assurance that you'll not only be around on my happy days.

I wanna smile genuinely past my dull expression just because you are there to cheer me up.

I know probably this piece doesn't make any sense.

Maybe it's cause there's a veil of waterworks covering my vision,

Or maybe it's the heaviness I feel in my chest that I desperately want to offload,

Or probably is the fact that I wanna tell you a lot of things but I'm afraid you won't even listen.

Because maybe my story and my worry isn't something to tell.

It's never been. It thrives in forlorn.

So I'd rather die slowly from within

And write more of these letters you'll probably never get to read.

That nobody seems to understand. 

@Travelling_Nomad