Maybe I am, what my father thinks. Maybe I am the reason, why my mother got diabetic. Maybe I am the one selfish, why my brothers stopped talking to me. Maybe I expect alot to love me in return and I beg enough for you to leave me when I need you the most. Maybe I am someone, who is an anarchist why my negative thoughts pulls out to you to open them, and leave me alone everytime. Maybe I am my tears, who rolls so silently that even my skin failed to relish them. Maybe I am the bad days,when I just wait for someone to hold me. Maybe I am my migraine, when my nerves burns my senses and I feel numb.