A part of me died today. Probably, for the fourth time. How many parts make me is a question I cannot answer. I think I expect a little too much from life or do I? I know myself much better than anyone else. I know that I was always cheerful. That person probably died a long time back. I dont know if anyone will ever understand me. I dont want to keep anyone unhappy. I, probably, dont mean the same thing they mean to me. I feel worthless. I feel alone. I feel like a nobody. I should have died all those times when I was so near death. It would have been much better then, than to face so many parts of me dying slowly before my ultimate death beckons me. Until then, I continue to kill a part of me every time.
Disclaimer: This is a very negative post. It doesn't, in anyway, concern me inspite of the suicidal weather we have here. This is just a part of some manuscript am working on. :)
*As a part of Ultimate Blog Challenge !