You know you don’t belong when you have nothing to say. You know you don’t belong when you have no reason to stay.
I have nothing to say.
People around me talk about what that one person told the other person, who that dark haired girl slapped, who followed her home, and about who’s in whose friend zone.
While I stare at my phone, scrolling through fancy footwear without the slightest intention of buying.
But I have a reason to stay. I’m a part of society that won’t let you live unless you endure. So I endure. Though I censure.
I hear a friend talk about her trip around the world, and my insides burn with a yearning I can’t bear. I am happy for her, yet jealousy creeps through my veins, for me. It’s torture to listen to someone else’s stories when all you want is to go yourself.
That’s when I realised: I don’t belong. And I have no reason to stay.
Except, a poor bank balance.
It’s a vicious circle of self-hatred. Which results in posts like these.