Love is kinda pointless.
I mean, think about it,
How can you say 'I love you '
But leave when someone better comes your way?
How can you admittedly open up,
But end up running when they know so much.
Then the whole 'crush' thing.
How can I like you,
And him.
Am I even allowed to do that?
Or am I selfish?
I sometimes think it's my fault for these thoughts;
Thoughts of depression, thoughts of severe stress and anxiety.
Cause of things out of my control.
Because of fears,
Fears of commitment,
Fears of the famous 'I love you',
Fears of being tossed aside,
Rejected,
Heartbroken,
Or worse,
Dead inside again.
I fear of my future as well.
My doctor says it's normal,
But it isn't.
Not having a period for months at a time,
From three,
To five.
I fear I may never be able to have my own children,
Or that the stress causing this will kill me.
Or maybe, just maybe,
That I might kill myself.
So what's the point?
To anything at all.
What is my purpose?
A shoulder to cry on?
A rebound for another?
A stuck up virgin with major commitment issues?
Or just, a friend, forever and always?
How the hell am I supposed to know?
Please, tell me.
What is the point.
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Untitled
कविताI had no idea what to title this, but it's just a compilation of notes and poems no one but myself has read. Kinda like a journal, but more open and an emotional outlet.
