Disappointment, such a fimilar word.

I stand in front of a shelf of disappointments everyday. Its in my bags, in my notes, in my room, in my home, in my school, in myself. What about you?

Girls feed on untruth. Boys?

I feed on disappointment. I grow on disappointment. I am disappointment personified.

And I wonder why? My face says "disappoint me"? Or do I seem like I enjoy being disppointed?

This is getting nowhere. I'm getting incoherent as it is. I shall return to bed. And bury myself all over again in disappointment in my mind.

I swear, one day, either I'll be so done with all these tidal emotions and be alone or I'll suffocate on disappointment.