Destitute Phantom

We are the bunches of feelings we hide away… Destitute Phantom we are, we forget we are Humans.


May 30, 2016  •  11:36pm

We’re not invisible. People can see us but they don’t notice us.

Perhaps we’re just a soul walking down the streets? Yes, maybe a group of souls running around the earth. Or maybe… We’re all just a bunches of feelings and emotions? That they just don’t wanna feel us so they tend to dismiss us before we even get a chance to speak.. And they keep doing things… keeping their minds busy so that they could forget about us? They distract themselves to avoid us… They shoo us every time we try to go near them. They don’t wanna see us or feel us…or know us. They want to keep us away from them, they don’t even want to give us a chance to introduce ourselves… Or hear us. They don’t want to hear us knocking on their doors. They want us out of their sights. They escape from us. They walk away…and ignore us. They run away from us when we’re trying to say something…they pretend we’re not here. They want us to go far, far away from them. They want to keep us off their way. They want us gone.

They don’t want us. They don’t want us appearing on their lives. They hate us.

People are cruel. They dismiss every bits of part of us. They’ll walk away when all we wanted was to be heard. They’ll reject us when all we wanted was someone who’ll understand. They’ll elude us when all we wanted was someone to talk to. They’ll leave us when we desperately needed them.

It’s so exhausting. You keep on trying and then people keep on letting you down. We’re trying to be open so that we can share a part of us. And when we’re being open they tend to neglect us and then eventually wonder why we keep ourselves shut up closed.

We are not invisible to each other. People can see us. They just pretend they don’t notice us.

But we’re just like a soul, a feeling and emotion we kept hidden. They’re invisible but we’re not. But people are hiding from each other; afraid of showing up; not wanting to be seen, pretending not to care. Why are these people rejecting each other when they know exactly how to feel the very same thing? We are hiding like crazy that we find ourselves hiding from our own, too.

“Why do people reject me? Why do they always neglect me? Why don’t they understand me?” And then I asked myself the same question.

I can’t demand to ask things from others while I don’t even have it in me. No, I don’t have the right to.

Why am I running away from myself? Why am I dismissing a thought whenever it’s about to get started? Why am I hiding my feelings from me? Why am I refusing to hear myself? Why am I avoiding the thoughts that my mind constantly reminds me?

Because I’m afraid. Afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of facing the truth; afraid of admitting I’m wrong, afraid of getting broken; afraid of everything. Everything that might go wrong. Everything that might destroy me. Again.

I realized, I can’t ask people the questions I still have no answers for myself; while it remains a mere question for me that I’m trying to find an answer to.

I realized… I was this soul, and this feelings, and this emotions I was actually talking about… I am what I do to me. I am what I keep inside me, I am what I hide away. I was making myself invisible to me, when I know every bit of the truth. When I can hear everything my mind says. And I can see myself doing nasty things to me, I can feel every bit of what I feel; everything that comes from my senses… I can see me, I can feel me. But for some inexplicable reason, I’m trying to hide away from me. I always find myself running away from me. I always want to escape. I am one of those people I say.

I was this girl, who notices everything of what people do… and constantly trying to avoid hers. Someone who doesn’t want to talk about it, and avoids bringing it up. Someone who dismiss and disregard her sentiments. I was this cruel girl who hates herself so much that she doesn’t want to hear herself talk about her feelings. 

Because I am these feelings I have no courage to face; the thoughts I do not understand. And the truth I cannot deal with. I am the emotion I’m always trying to dismiss and always wanna hide.

I was this destitute phantom… wandering around, needing something from others; when I don’t even have it from myself.

Author: The Realist in the Abyss

I feel like a freaking lunatic. Wandering around... not knowing who I am... or what I do. And I'm still trying to figure it all out, too. But perhaps I'll always be unknown to me; I'll always be that girl. The girl in the abyss.

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