sick. nauseous.

damn you. what's with your attitude? just because you're the prettiest doesn't mean you have the rights to complain about everyone else and make excuses why they are not good enough for you. admit it. you want to be treated like a princess. admit it. your family is rich. you will not accept anything less. you will marry a rich guy and you will be a rich housewife. i don't like how you think i have a loose tongue when i don't. and i used to trust you. we shared the same unhappy ever ending fairy tale, but you had it better. because you're prettier. someone will bound to come running to you if you complain you're hurt or upset. they will tolerate your nonsense because you have a pretty face. they will all laugh at your jokes because you are damsel in distress. they will endure your fits because you are a princess and take it with a grain of salt until you are satisfied.
damn you. i don't know what you want anymore. first you are, then you're not. if you're not, then you're not. stop giving me bloody wrong signals. fine. my fault. i took my own sweet time, you lost interest and now you're running off to somebody else. nauseous. you claim to be here when you're not. you're having too much fun being with others. we who don't give you benefits will soon come to pass. nauseous. because we are not good enough? because we are a broken group? i agree. maybe that's why. we all smile with a mask. we don't know our true colours. we are all fake. nauseous.
damn you. i can't believe it. you of all people. don't. please. when i see the three of you together, nauseous. just because of the fleeting feelings everyone is tearing apart. not you too. i don't that. don't don't don't. i can tell when people start talking and asking. i know when you all come running. don't. nauseous. i'm no good for you. i extremely bad at dealing with this. if you're not direct, i will not be direct. but doing things the indirect way makes it worse. i will ignore you, pretend i'm oblivious, turn away, act like there's nothing wrong when every fucking thing is wrong. nauseous. i'm a fucking coward still. i only run away from difficult situations. i can't deal with complication. i get scared, i shut down, i cry, and i only blame everyone else and then blame everything on myself for not being able to deal with it.
maybe she's right.i'm not to be trusted. i'm foul. i play with your minds. i see past your true selves. i interpret, assume, confirm. i take that back. i don't play with your minds. i'm trying to avoid that. i try to avoid that by avoiding you all. nauseous. i swear i'm good inside. but i have layers and layers and layers of rotting flesh and dirt and crap. nauseous. i want you near. but i want you far. don't touch me. i'm afraid that history repeats itself. i don't want that. i like how we used to all be. but what happened to us all?

one that charmed and one that sees more value that it's worth? one that tired, sees the truth and turned to someone else? one that keeps to herself and will not engage in this foul play? one that only have eyes for the white truths, unaware of impending doom? one that over-thinks, over-judge, over-assume and shuns- aware of the crumbling of all, weeps, and wish that she'll be gone from this madness.

everything is just a lie.