Fake it till you make it, it is said. And backspace is my worst enemy. Even here, that feeling of being judged won’t abandon me.
Be strong, tears are a sign of weakness. When you cry, you lose the confidence you had. Move on and do what has to be done. I’m sure everyone has heard these things sometime in their lives. And for the most part, it is true. If you sit to cry at every small disappointment, then you will never be able to end up strong, or test your limits – or even cross them. Grim determination, sheer will power and dogged hard work will get you most anywhere. I have heard this since forever, and I believe it to be true.
Sometimes, when you have been faking it for so long, that you have convinced yourself that you’re over everything and you are in total control, things collapse. You throw every little ounce of strength you have at life. Every last bit. And none of it is borrowed, or asked for. You stand by yourself, you don’t ask for help. You are determined to weather this gale and come out of it successful. And, again, for the millionth time, things come apart. And you struggle not to just look at the sky, dig your nails into your palms and shout in frustration. Scream. Rant. Till your throat is sore and your voice is gone. But you can’t do that, so you try. Try to carry on, holding onto anything you can find. Any small thing at all, because you are standing on the brink of that cliff, at the bottom of which you were not long back. You climbed back up, too scared to ask for help. And now you’re ready to slip again.
Ma, I’m tired.
Sometimes, when all you have is yourself, you cry yourself to sleep. You don’t want to sleep, you detest it, but you are slowly coaxed into it. You are ashamed of your tears, but you let them flow, satisfied in the belief that they are a secret that will never be revealed. You shout into the pillow, trying not to wake up your roommate. And eventually, sobbing, tired, worn out, you fall asleep.
And the nightmare begins again.
Title: Daughtry. Sorry.