I crave for company when alone. When surrounded with people, I long for solitude. When there’s no one to talk to, I wish I could pour my heart out. When I have audience, I prefer not sharing my agonies and ecstasies.
I desire to be loved, selflessly and unconditionally. I dread love, when I am approached. When I am blamed, I am aware of my imperfections. But deep within, I believe in my goodness. When I am ignored, I seek attention. I panic, when I am to monopolize people’s attention.
When content, I wish I could break free. When glum, I stay confined to melancholia. I yearn to travel alone. However, wish to tag buddies along every now and again. When someone expects a lot from me, I feel inept. When no one cares, I confidently strut my adeptness.
When one treats me with disfavor, I question if I am despicable. But always feel grandee when affairs are the other way around. I am easy to handle, when I am panic-stricken. I am the most difficult to deal with, in my placidity.
I am on high with each episode of dejection. The graph of my mood swings shoots up each time I near the crater. I pine for my absence in the hearts I wish to stay forever. I grieve my presence in the hearts of whom I would die for.
I am poles apart within my own magnetic field.
I am attracted, yet repulse away. I am loved but feel unloved sporadically. I am nervous and calm at the same time. I am ignored, yet feel well attended. I feel worthy one minute and unworthy as the clock ticks away. I am beautiful, yet feel plain as the pendulum sways. I feel, yet I am unfeigned. I am dark, however, reflect my light concurrently.