At times, I question my existence
Why exactly was I put on this earth?...
To fuck up everyone's lives?...
To be self-centered because I seem to care only of myself?...
No one truly knows.
Once in a while, some answers would be nice...
To comfort me and heal the pain.
To stop my heart from bleeding and the tears from staining my cheeks.
Again, I say, I question my existence
Why as I born?...
To live two seperate lives?...
One of sadness and depression...
And one of happiness and security?
Is that how it's supposed to be?
I see so many perfect lives among me...
My friends.
Or are they, like me, living a secret life?
Am I dead inside?
No one truly knows.
 
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