because
there are a few moments while I’m breathing that I think just for a second it
would be nice to not have to be an introvert all the time, it would be nice not
to be exhausted by all the noise and bustle and life that’s always
happening. but I’m so stuck inside my
head, I don’t think you understand how that is.
because we all have our own ideas of what’s good and what’s best and
what we need right now and it makes perfect sense (not always) to us and why
can’t other people just understand that but I’m so tired and so tired and so
tired and sometimes I just want to crawl into my bed and not get out for a
really long time and no I don’t want company and no I don’t really want to talk
about it. and I have no idea why I have
so much to give when it comes to some people but others are just the most
draining. and sometimes I don’t want to
be a person any more. I don’t want to
think. let me be Scarecrow before the
trip to Oz. Or Tinman. Or Dorothy when she still thought there was
no place like home but before she actually got there. Because maybe the longing is better than the disappointment.
there are
so many things I can’t think about because I feel the wrong things.
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