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.