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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A tragic story about being happy, two words that do not mix together but what is happiness exactly? what would you think happiness will be for a depressed person? That is what the hero of this
short story trying to find. This short story is a conversation the hero has with himself about what he did in his life what did he gain,what did you lose and what does he want. I present to you a
kind-of-a-light tragic happiness.

Submitted: February 18, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 18, 2018



I don’t care anymore

I don’t care about anyone or anything

I don’t want to hear it

I hate… I hate it… I hate everything


Why do I even hate?

I have no right to hate

I had no right from the start

But, what about them?

Why do they hate me?

I tried everything to suit their liking

From the way they looked at me when I was a child:

The glare I had to bear for causing trouble

That piercing gaze, that cold look

I took an oath that day and swore on my very own existence

That I will not “disappoint” them anymore in every sense of the word the child-little-burnable-me knew


I cared about everything I’ve done and made sure it was perfect

The road was so hard and lonely; I did not rely on anyone

I did everything to be what they wanted

All I thought about was the look they will have when they see what I accomplished, their smiling faces was my only reason for existence

I discarded every happy thing in my heart

I shut myself up; you could say I was a social outcast

But they rejected that way of living too so for the sake of appearances I took the initiative to form a social interaction with others without revealing my true self, putting up a front: a mask

I tried to be the best in everything but that was hard to do in one go so I took one thing after the other

The way my peers lived and how they smiled happily together did not bother me in the least, they had their life and I had mine

But it appears that did not last long. As my efforts wasn’t enough, they started comparing me to others in every way, anything that I lacked or anything that wasn’t perfect

Wait!! Look at me!! I can do more things than they can

They might do one thing perfectly but I can do many things

Why do you continue on ignoring my efforts?

Do you want me to be like them?

Why? Am I not enough?


I started to care about what everyone around me did

Carefully, like a detective; inspecting, analyzing

I was starting to see them as an obstacle, an enemy

I had to…I have to even now

But sometimes, my free will surfaces bit by bit and I wanted “friends”

Although when I saw the result of that “free will” I was devastated; I started to lose sight of my real goal and my efforts decreased little by little

So the comparing became familiar from repeating it over and over again






…is what I want to say

But it will always be a silent scream with no eco

No more, please

I want to rest

I want…

Why does my heart sting?

My vision is also blurring

A drop of water?


Am I crying?

Crying? Me?


I have no reason to

I have no right to cry

I chose this but not once, not even for a second have I been satisfied with anything

My accomplishments are not for me

My “friends” are not mine

Only my efforts are the one thing I did for my sake


I did that for their sake, didn’t I?

Then what is it that belongs to me?

My despair?

My loneliness?

My feelings?

What feelings? I live my life for them, I didn’t think of myself

I am empty inside


I’m tired

I honestly do not care anymore


In the end I am still a “bad person” to them

I am unnecessary

Then why do I exist?

I don’t need to live

Should I die?

No one will care so what’s the point

But I’ll be a pain if I do that

Suicides take a lot of papers

So even if I’m dead I still cause trouble



I am a very “bad person”!!

A very, very “bad person”!!

I won’t die

But I won’t live either

If they want something I’ll do it

I’ll be a puppet who only moves by the will of its master

A doll waiting for orders

Until the day when I break free

The day when I breathe my last breath

I am not angry

Nor am I resenting anyone

I am not despising

Nor am I regretting what happened

I am…

Satisfied with how things are

Even if I do get out of that situation, what can I possibly do?

I have been living my life for others and I know nothing beyond that

I don’t know how to live for “myself”

And I’m tired to learn from the begging

So just let it be

I’m satisfied


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