Words are supposed to free us. But I feel trapped - my thoughts cannot be expressed through writing. I feel like I’m being suffocated, buried underneath emotions I’m supposed to feel, underneath appearances I’m supposed to keep, all whilst striving to create beautiful combinations of words in my mind. Why should we connect our energies, wasting thoughts, faking tongues with meaningless conversations and shallow understandings? I’m covered in ugly curtains. My room is too cold and smells like you and I am nostalgic, I am forgetful, I am lonely, I am bitter. I am always holding my breath. I don’t ask for much. Car rides with the windows down and I can’t see with my hair in my face and the air is cold and it smells like cigarettes and it feels like it’s four in the morning but it’s still 6 PM. I’m only looking for the people whose dreams always glow together. And I’ll stand there quietly until I can close my eyes, puff out my chest and somehow slide myself inside the niche that I so desperately want to belong.