Menteur

Or Liar

I would love nothing more than to end disappointment. I would want no more than to simply attain a state of happiness without an anchor of regret that should have long since passed. The loneliness that seems to haunt me appears almost unending and yet, somehow, I am able to find rare moments to hope and want when I know all will end in naught but tears. I know better than I would like and because of that there is no place for blame, save myself. And of course it is myself who I blame. The imperfections I dwell upon, the compliments shrugged off, the torture I put myself through. Self-deprecation, punishment, internal conflict, and loathing. All stem from nothing but my own stupidity. I trust and hope and look forward to but end up disillusioned, saddened, and hurt. I am broken. I am without repair. There is more wrong with me than even I know and it is because of these flaws that I seek and crave attention so fiercely. It is, too, because of this that I believe I will never be able to have someone of my very own. Someone who will love me and someone who I myself can love. I fight through night after night seeking a reprieve from all that follows me, yet no matter what I buy, where I go, or what I do, the cloud lingers in my mind.