I feel like people have a common misconception about suicide. It's generally associated with loneliness, but that's not always the case. Sometimes it's quite the opposite. Rather than feeling like no one cares, you feel overwhelmed by the amount of people around you, constantly shoving opinions and standards down your throat. You're slowly suffocating, collapsing beneath the weight of their expectations, and the best part? They don't even care. They write off your tears and forced smile as immaturity, and promise a better future, completely aware of the fact that you've begun to wish, desperately hope, for tomorrow not to come. For some tragic accident to whisk you away. For it all to end. You're called weak, cowardly, and expected to be motivated after being told you're inferior to any other human being in every single way. Happiness being well below success seems to be the norm in this society. It's all about the show you put on. If it's entertaining enough, if they like your plot, the names in your story, then maybe, maybe they'll buy you. Your own opinions are considered worthless. What's that phrase? Ah, I remember, for the greater good. One life for those of many. Your life for the odds of a better future, which, regardless, is still not guaranteed, even with big names in your resume. That's the price of my happiness. Consider it bought. Without my consent, of course. Is it quiet on the other side?
 Polyester Dreams · Wed Sep 04, 2013 @ 04:16am · 0 Comments |
