Fiend

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Close Up.”

I oftentimes get tired of myself. I always blame myself for everything that goes the wrong way. And if people will help me, I hardly accept it. Partly because of pride but mostly because I don’t want them to go deeper. I don’t want them to look at me nearer. I don’t want them to know more about me. I’m scared that if they would get too close, I will end up wounded because they won’t like me. THE REAL ME. And I don’t know if they would get along with my caged psychopath suppressed in the pits of my self-created hell.

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Awkward

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Door.”

I’m in my late teens. Barely twenty years old. Some people of my age find it necessary to have more friends but as for myself, it’s not. I’m selectively social. I’m bad at starting a conversation with a “potential” friend. I’m awkward with almost everything. I struggle to even say ‘hi’ cos I’m just like that. I’m calculative and paranoid at the same time, and I know it’s a bad combination. So if you wanna ask if I ever had a boyfriend, I suppose you know the answer. I don’t know if it’s bad that I am not really open to potential relationships around me but I grew up like this and no one ever pointed it out.