“But what Chels thinks of most of the time is herself,” she says.

I can’t say that doesn’t burn, that it doesn’t cut right through me like a newly sharpened knife with jagged edges. It hurts me to think that after all I’ve done, after all the mess that I had to go through, that I still am going through, in fact, that people can still say this about me. But, who are they to be blamed? It’s not like anyone knows what exactly is going on with me anyway... It just hurts that the things I do never really get acknowledged to the point that sometimes I think I’m just a mere waste of space. A waste of space that could, oh too easily, be filled in by someone else...

I guess I am selfish, but it burns to know that some people think I don’t give a shit. After everything... after everything I’ve just done, what I had to put myself through just to make the people I love happy. I can be selfish about little things, yes, I can, but I know that I do give a care about the bigger things, the things that actually matter. I do give. But I don’t think anyone appreciates that.

Or maybe that’s how I think I am. Maybe I really don’t care about others but myself. If that’s how it is, then why I am feeling the pain? If I had been selfish, then I guess I’d be selfish to the point that I’ve numbed myself to all human frailty and weakness, to pain. If I had been selfish, then why do I still give a shit about the people I care about?

You know sometimes, I just wish I could disappear off of the face of this earth and this isn’t about the accusation of me being selfish anymore... I’m talking about how I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks. I wish I’d never existed in this place, with all these people. I wish that I hadn’t been born just so that I could be here right now, to cause all this misery within people I love. I wish that I was someone else... rather than myself, me, whose existence has caused too many complications. I wish I was never here, that I could just disappear; just so I won’t be a problem to the people I care about anymore.

I guess I’m just the fault, the mistake, the flaw in what could’ve been sheer perfection. At times, I just wish that I’d hit my head someplace hard enough to cause amnesia. Amnesia of the past two months. They had been the best of my entire life, yet it was also the most painful two months. The best, in its imperfections. I wish I could just forget. So they’d forget about me.

I wish I could just disappear into nothingness, so that I’d forget, and be forgotten, just so that the people I care about the most can carry on without me hindering them. Without me, holding them back all because they care about me too. I wish I had never caused all this, I wish I wasn’t me. I wish I was “back to the person I used to be, back when you were there for me”. I can’t take myself right now. I can’t.

But I’m not looking for pity, I don’t stoop that low. I’m not asking for attention either. I just wish things were different. I wish things were better, brighter. I wish.