then what about me?

I know people tend to say about not making life about yourself.

but then, it is my life so maybe I can make some things about me.

because what about me?

am I the only one who’s suppose to hurt?

supposedly I should be taking care of someone else’s heart but no one cared for mine?

supposedly I should try and be there for anyone but nobody’s there for me?

supposedly I should think about someone’s feelings first over mine?

supposedly I should try to be more generous to the people who hurt me?

supposedly I should always be the bigger person?

supposedly I should hide my pain so others could heal?

supposedly I won’t get to hurt? or grief? or cry?

supposedly everyone get to hurt me and I was supposed to be okay with it?

then what about me?

because I don’t see anyone does that to me.

should I really jump over ocean for people who won’t jump over a puddle for me?

had a heart lined with cracks but i chose art to fill it.
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