I wanted so much to enjoy the things
The things I thought were meant for me
Whatever I am
This life
This existence
It’s harder than anyone who knows me know’s
It’s a filter of what feels wrong set over my days
It’s made by my own fears and doubts I thought I faced enough of
If you’re almost dead is it enough?
It’s not a drama and I’m not seeking sympathy
Maybe some understanding, not the trivial type
Like someone who really gets it
Do I even know if the sky I see is the real one?
Or is it a dream?
I feel the fear of even saying these words mentally
I want to get out of here