It bothers them. The fact that I smoke bothers them. The fact that I'm not doing it with friends to have fun, and be cool on the Internet, but when I'm doing it alone, and trying to hide it from everyone bothers them. They are my neighbors, and people who know me. They say that they care about my health. They say that they care about me, But they never ask me if I'm happy, if my mind is in the right state, if I'm having negative thoughts, if my diary is full of songs about suicide.
The state of my mind never bothers them!
They never ask me if I'm stressed out, or fucked up, that I'm smoking alone.
They never ask me if I'm insecure about anything. They never ask me if I'm scared. (They expect me to be strong) They never ask me if all this laughter is real, or my mind just trying to ignore the fact that I'm going down in a spiral.
But they say they care.
The truth is, everyone asks how you're doing, and if you're fine, But no one is willing to listen what's killing you inside.