Constantly putting everyone else's feelings before mine, because I'm generally a really nice person. And then getting hurt in the end because people just take that for granted. The worst part about it is that, once you've established yourself as a "nice" person, others fail to realize that you "feel" as well. They don't know you're one capable of being hurt, when in fact, I'm hurt all the time.
By the littlest remark or criticism. I don't act on my feelings. I keep them.
Because I'm a nice person.
What fuck does anyone know, right?
Why am I even blogging about this in the first place? I'm not pretty, perfect, gorgeous, lovely, thin, slim, slender, not-ugly enough to fish for compliments or even any kind of encouragement.
I work hard and it goes unrecognized.
When I ask for advice, I'm deemed stupid and incapable of googling all the information myself. What the fuck is wrong if you just answer a question I asked you two seconds ago? No one appreciates human interaction the way I do.
Maybe I'm just overly-attached to everyone.
Every night and day, I wished my grandfather was still around so I could give him a call to ask for advice, or at least I've someone to listen to me cry over the phone.
Why do other people's grandfathers live up 80 or 90 years old yet mine passed away at the age of 67.
What the fuck is wrong with my life?
No father, no grandfather? No fucking support from anybody?
Why is there no constant with my life but failure?
I'm so helpless.
