Lucky.

Lost in an image, in a dream. But there's no one to wake her up. And the world is spinning and she keeps on winning. But tell me, what happens when it stops? And they say... she's so lucky. She's a star. But she cry, cry, cries in her lonely heart, thinking, if there's nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?

They say she's so lucky, but they don't know what lucky is. They're too self-absorbed, too self-centered to look past their own issues and see those of others. They think everyone else is perfect and only they are miserable. They're too wrapped up in their own world to view perfection as just a myth. They'll never see it like that because they'll never want to. They're too busy yearning for others' pity, for others' sympathy to realize that they're not the only ones who cry at night.

They'll blame her for not understanding, for not caring, for not listening but they'll never see that she too wants to be heard. Maybe she's just tired of listening and wants to speak. They judge her feigned smile as arrogance, and it never crosses their mind that she too finds it hard to be happy when her heart is broken beyond repair. She just wants the same sympathy that she always gives.

But her wants are in vein. Her sorrows are always inferior to their's. Her worries always dismissed. Her concerns mocked. How would she know what miserable is? She's so lucky. She's a star. How superficial they are. They think she's lucky just because she never wanted to burden others with her problems. How long can she keep it inside? She is human too and tries to share her misery. When she does, it sickens her to see that they are not burdened, but overjoyed by her problems. Ecstatic to hear about her pain.

They feed off the misery of others, these people. Always attempting to heigten their own self-esteem, to find reassurance for their own insecurities. Running from one person to the next, groveling for pity, no amount of reassurance is enough, they need more and more. Draining one person after another of their sympathy. It's sickening. They're a different class of conceited. They don't boast their accomplishments and successes in hopes of praise and adoration. No, they are much worse than that. They boast their failures and mistakes in hopes of condolences and commiserations.

In all of this they forget about others. It's always their problems that come first, their problems are always so much more important. They are too full of themselves to understand that they can never be heard unless they listen. She tries to explain, but they hate her even more for that. They don't even want to listen to her anymore. Their insecurities feed off pity, they have none to spare. No sympathy or pity to give for they feel they're the only ones who deserve it.

So they'll never know. Never know what the "lucky" go through. Never know that pain and suffering are universal. There is no superiority in pain. No one's problems should be more important than any one else's. They'll never understand that. They keep complaining to her and blaming her for not listening, when they are the ones who don't listen. They're too busy pitying themselves to see she is slowly dying on the inside and all the "luck" in the world can't stop that.