They are everywhere. They pretend to know what I need and how I feel just through talking to me. I'm such a good actress. They think I'm happy, but they don't know that behind my eyes and my smile, which are actually a mask, stands my depression, my bipolarity. It seems so real.
Society is controlled by it's own interests, so these human beings push me and tell me that I should move on faster, but I'm afraid I'm not like them. I don't want to let go. Yet. I want hope and memories, sadness, depression, and tears, because this (the emotion) is what makes us humans.
I want a break. They don't understand, so they're ignoring me, they're sending me text messages on my mobile: just requests. They need my help. Irony, irony, irony, everywhere irony. But I know this is my fault. I wanted this. I wanted to keep it real and I failed. It's only my fault. Or it's my only fault?
What to do? What to do?
It's been a moth and two days since then.