Invisible, indecipherable standards.
Not worth it until you achieve.
It’s funny to fall.
You’re a problem now.
An issue.
A point of stress for people you love.
All you can do is blame yourself.
No one really cares about how you feel,
It’s always about how you make them feel.
And we wonder why people choose to leave.
I wasn’t made for how fickle and transparent our tendencies can be.
I’ve said numerous times that I feel like a ghost.
However, I’m beginning to suspect this world is an empty house, and maybe it’s haunted
By all the jaded and tired souls passively imposing their will, just clinging to one small thread of hope,
That they’re seen despite the invisible and indecipherable standards we rest our comforts in.
Inadvertently casting their bitterness and scorn off to the water, to see if anyone would bite that sharp hook hidden by the lure they curate.
I suppose anything is a prison as long as it limits you.
Even if you don’t realize it.
You stopped believing a long time ago.
I still do, and always will.
I refuse to shatter.