Shadowed Figure

I guess everything seems surreal. How the ghosts of my past who were nudging me in my head and blackened my heart. How the ghosts in my head swam their ways to my heart. How there was a demon inside of me, lurking about, trying to take over my head, metaphorically.
Everything feels like nothing. Nothing worths anymore. Nothing feels important to me anymore. Everyday I feel just like a train station waiting for a train, but the train keeps passing and passing. Everyday goes by with a single same structure, I got up, survived, and go back to bed. Each day seems as worthless as the day before and the day after.
In a way, the reason everyday seems worthless is because the things I chase are in the form of material. Perhaps, I am chasing after something that's irrational. I chase after feelings, not tangible things. Feelings are hard to gain, you know? They are precious, precious things. Not buyable. I yearn for things that intangibles. I want things that differ us from androids, I want something that makes us humans. Feelings.
Depression is something human, but to think it over... depression's symptoms are mostly feeling numb or nothing at all, but how can you feel something when you are numb? Pain, sadness, depression and grief are all the things that I feel. I want someone to care about me. I want someone to give me feelings much greater than those negative emotions, I want someone who can ease those away.
I am not saying I cannot survive alone, because I am my own solid ground, but... sometimes I feel like I am tired and enough of bearing the demons alone, sometimes I wish I have a solid ground that isn't myself.
There's this title of a song from the band that I really like, it's called "What Do You Go Home To?", I've asked myself thousands of the same question. What do I go home to? My parents? My brother? Sometimes, perhaps, yeah, but no. I don't have a real reason, a place of where I belong to. A place where I can soothe all of my worries. A home. Yes, my house provides the home-feeling, but no, sometimes this house still bares nightmares and unimaginable frightening thoughts. There's nothing wrong with this house, I know, but there's something in this house, and also the other place I currently occupy, that makes me just want to break down. Want to fall apart, to completely broken down into shattered tiny million pieces.
I feel like a very fragile window glass, it keeps everything inside and on the outside you can see everything is normal, but you don't know what's going on inside, you don't know if there is a series of broken furnitures, torn books, shattered lamps, you don't know the state inside; the window is so fragile, yet so strong, perhaps it's fragile because nobody ever tried to knock the window, to peeked what's inside. It's kind of selfish, I know, for wanting to be noticed. For wanting to have someone to have feelings for you.

I tried to kill what's inside. I tried. So hard. The demons in my head keep playing with me. Sometimes I can't bear it all. I'm so tired. Please, can I have my solid ground now?