I fucking hate this shit. Everything. Why is everything make 你 feel like 你 want to curl up and fucking die! Why does everything that seems so perfect crumble into small pieces that are unfixable? How come the girl sitting across from 你 is staring at 你 with a look so harsh, 你 can taste the disgust in your mouth? Is that how everyone feels around you? 你 want to ask what the fuck her problem is, but of course like the good little 天使 你 are, 你 keep your mouth shut, and as 你 sit there taking her look 你 问题 everything. 你 were always raised to be the bigger person, to be nice and friendly even when people don't return the favor, to achieve all and never fall.
And as 你 enter life does everyone place their bets on if 你 will succeed 或者 fail? As 你 age, through those terrible fucking years 你 go through, everyone seems to have a 刀 at your throat waiting for 你 to mess up so they can apply 更多 pressure to the blade? So they can wait 'till 你 mess up again and dig it deeper, and slowly through all your mistakes 你 make, all the small mistakes 你 make, the people holding the 刀 to your throat get the chance to slit it. And drop the weakest link, because once 你 mess up, since everyone thought 你 were perfect and expected 你 to excel in every fucking piece of shit 你 do, there is no need for you.
It seems like the whole world, seven fucking billion people on this small dying planet, is holding their breath watching as 你 walk the tightrope of life. even you.
But what about the six billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, and nine hundred and ninety-nine other people? Are they all on tightropes, too? And if they are, those blasted bastards, do they have the support and cords that 你 aren't aloud to have? Because 你 have no imperfections, that's why 你 aren't aloud. And when 你 open your mouth to scream for help, because you're almost falling, they sew it up to keep it shut. No complaints must come from the world's perfect kid.
So along 你 travel, maturing and aging, but those fucking people, that had a 刀 to your throat, now add one to your back. 你 gain some 老友记 but they are those people, and as your trust for them grows the blade is slowly digging into your skin, 你 can feel it too. But as the fucking good little angel
你 are, 你 keep your head high, and be a trooper though the tears burn scars into your heart. The trust that once was a lively flame is put out 由 treason, and is now nothing but a ember glowing in the ash. 你 keep walking though, 'cause there is always light at the end of the tunnel, someone waiting for 你 to stoke the little ember, care for it and add a little love, that will set it ablaze.
But what if that special one
doesn't come? What do 你 do? 你 then grow up believing 你 were never good enough for anyone; anything. How could anyone 爱情 a freak like you? Someone that doesn't know how to fight and just takes the shit that is thrown at them? But 你 were raised that way? 你 were always taught to be loving and compassionate, and because every time 你 did stand your ground and fight back the knives would cut 你 down till 你 were nothing.
So here 你 are at the guillotine, there is no need for you. 你 stood up for yourself, and people that do that can only have one fate: Have everyone against them and face their extermination. The breath of the everyone is let out in one exhale, all the money placed on the 表 for 你 failing is awarded to the betters, and 你 are going to fall like the rest of the freaks that don't fit in.
你 back away, and dive off the tightrope. Who wants to live a life like everyone else, when 你 can live free. Who gives a fuck if everyone around 你 spits in disgust, you're you.
So even if 你 don't feel needed, even if 你 aren't brand new, even if 你 aren't the shiniest, 或者 the strongest, the thickest, 或者 the coolest. 你 are still 你 and even if 你 are the weakest link, 你 sit in the middle of the connection, and the chain you're on will break apart without you.
Right. ((Just feeling bad about myself today and felt like 写作 it out... I don't care if this get one view 或者 none.. it just felt goof to get it out.))