They've called me pessimistic...

I try to be optimistic...

But I'm just realistic...

I hear laughing and chatting and singing...

But I just know its just the bliss that is brought through ignorance.

I had that once...long ago.

My friends call me selfless although everything I do is selfish.

A friend is someone I use in loneliness.

My video games are just an escape from reality.

Writing is a hobby I bring out in desperation, vexation.

Its intimate...just a story.

Doesnt bring happiness but a bit of peace...close enough.

Feeling like I let myself be,

Without societies forced ambitions,

Without societies forced morals,

Without a bit of judgement as I know a journal isn't a person to judge my story.