Crushed

I'm that cancer that should be deleted.

I always thought people always misunderstand me. They don't have patience with me. They think I'm that boring, negative, emotional crybaby that they don't like to be around with.

At this point, I think they're right. I have difficulties in explaining myself. Whatever I say seems to be wrong, and they sound so right from other people's mouth. I think I have another kind of mid-life crisis - the inability to express myself.

I tried. I really tried. I prayed. I really prayed. I thought being abnormal is good - we are told to be the outliers anyway. But at this point, this abnormality is nothing but a disability in me.

I moved from a city to another, thinking that it is them who don't appreciate, not patient, not loving, not caring. But I guess now it is clear that the problem is me, not them. I am that cancer. I am that negativity and destruction.

Of all the weaknesses a human can possess, I guess the inability to communicate is the saddest, unfair, brutal lack that one could ever had. Moses was given Aaron. But what do I have? Nothing.

I am sad. You probably already put me under the "again-crybaby" category. But at this point I don't really care much about what you think. It's not like you guys haven't looked at me that way before.

Don't worry. I know Christ died so that I can live again - although a life of not-supposed defeat. Perhaps one day I will figure these out.

Or perhaps not.

When you tried your best but you don't succeed...

So is it half full, or half empty?