i didn't ask to join this endless race towards some abstract goal that i don't even want to achieve. it wasn't mine to begin with, yet here i am, dying for it, locked in a box with just enough space to breathe. who would've thought that this is what living feels like? who would've thought that this is how we all choose to spend our time? buried in our own homes, opening more wounds with each passing day, scratching down the walls, helplessly gasping for air, empty on the inside.