Free

Today was another of those days.

The day’s I dread.

I woke up wishing with all my might not be here.

I can’t even tell what is up or down anymore. I don’t know what I’m feeling or why I’m feeling it. I can feel the pressure on my chest, pushing harder and harder. I can feel my stomach in knots and pains.

I don’t want to whinge, again.

I don’t want to whine, again.

I don’t want to be a fucking mess, again.

I just want to be me, but I have no fucking idea what that is anymore.

Am I just a piece of shit? I keep doing shitty things. I am completely self-centred. That in my eyes, makes me a bad person. Then I cry about it and someone tells me I’m a good person. How fucked up is that?

What kind of fucking obnoxious asshole does that?

So instead I want to leave. To be free of the concerns of how to act and what to say. Free of the constant social and personal judgement that consumes me. Free of the spiral my mind finds it in. Free of the guilt.

Free of it all.