i don’t think i want to die.

but i want to escape and i want to be different and i want to feel something and i want to do better and i want to breathe in and out, stretching my lungs.

there’s this numb feeling in my bones and it’s starting to make my emotions seem artificial, staged, timed. smile on in three, you’re supposed to be enjoying the conversation! i don’t know how to fix it. i don’t know how to feel anymore.

a lot of my life has been spent doing things for other people even when it wasn’t good for me. i’m a people pleaser to my core. my heart aches for who i could’ve been, for who my parents could have been if they didn’t have me.

being the oldest means a childhood that none of your siblings will live exactly the same, responsibility they will never have, expectations that are never going to be set on their shoulders. you’re the experiment, the one who made your parents who they are. everything they do wrong with you is fixed and improved for the next child.

i don’t even think i can blame them, it’s their first time living too.

the sun is setting and i just want to do better but i don’t know how. i’m surrounded by people who love me and i don’t know how to see them. life is passing me by and all i have to do is pull the cord to stop the train i’m on, but i can’t reach.

i was so excited to grow up but it’s nothing i ever imagined. i remember it all; every age and every wish and every idea and every tear and every scrape. nothing feels the same as it did when i was six, or nine, or fourteen.

it’s my first time living and i don’t know what to do anymore.