Past this prosthetic exterior, I am genuinely sad. Wither it be knowing that I am behind in a never-ending race or simply the fact that I am not up to my own standards, even if those same standards are based off my close-nit bubble of a world I live. The same old things are not getting me by and I hesitate to venture in to uncharted waters. For one I am ashamed of being in such a state when I know that I am doing fine, as unrevealing as that is, and the other I feel maybe my shell of accomplishments are meager and unfulfilling. Do correct me if you see me for it is far more than difficult to gain an outside-view of myself. This is not a pity letter. This is not written to allow myself to sulk in my own depravity. I am looking for answers to those questions I dare not ask. I cannot ask.
I am ashamed of how I heard it. I am disgruntled that she did nothing. I am furious that he... well... enough said. Don't get me wrong, I am not jealous or tear-stricken, I just feel wronged as a friend and as a secret bearer in that THEIR words are more important than mine. I don't care if you are ashamed or embarrassed. I took on your friendship knowingly expecting something of this magnitude. Please, I not going anywhere. As vexed as I am, I will never turn down a conversation.
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