Dear Diary,
at night, I especially feel the urge to speak out, to confess how much it hurts when I open up about my feelings and receive only silence in return. How bitter it is to realize: whenever he confides in me, I always support him, but when I do the same, there is nothing but silence.
He will never be my support in those moments when I am weak, when I dare to admit what makes me even more vulnerable — my love. I feel so strongly that I need emotional stability, yet with him, I will never have it.
I’m losing my mind from how deeply this gnaws at me — this feeling of defenselessness, fear, being unwanted, the absence of love and understanding. It seems he enjoys my weakness, enjoys watching me open up and trust him, and enjoys tormenting me with his silence in response.
I turn away from those who are willing to stay with me no matter what, and keep holding on to the one who carelessly tramples over my feelings. For love, when directed at someone indifferent to your heart, is nothing but a kind of living death. How can one learn to long for life again, rather than merely exist, when all that remains inside is disappointment?
I feel incapable of being with anyone… A part of me longs only to die. And yet, perhaps the very act of writing these words means there is still a hidden wish within me — a fragile hope that someone might stop me, that someone might save me.