chocogecko

My exbest friend messaged me after ignoring me for a week. My exboyfriend blocked me on messenger. The loss of them in general doesnt hurt as much as its the loss of whatever charade I could hold onto of not being alone. If I were a writer I'd wax on about being born with some accursed mark prophesying the utter loneliness for the rest of my days. But I can't figure out a poetic enough way to phrase my suffering so I remain silent.
I observe my surroundings. Everything in this room, in this house that belongs to me I owe to me. I try to take solace in the fact that, despite being alone, I still can and will survive. I can extend this miserable affair for maybe another 70+ years. As hopeless and broken my experiences have rendered me, I still somehow remain tenacious and spiteful. I refuse to lose even though it entails continuing on with the inconsolable desire for the parental love my media promised me growing up. Loving parents the bonding and confirmation from them that are essential to the offsprings capability to thrive. Resilient and undeterred, still I rise like a dandelion from the concrete. Unwanted but unavoidable. Face my ugliness, my dejectedness, the truths my wizened tongue has to speak, sharp and cutting honed from your very own rejection and neglect of me.