Haven’t you ever felt that feeling of needing a break but the second you get a break, it’s not enough and then you go on a deep dive into your consciousness looking for what you need to truly feel relaxed, and then you think about running away from home, work, family, friends, troubles, sadness and happiness to inevitably end up in the same melancholy status that you’re in now? Is that just me? Oh…
Anywhere but here. That’s where I want to be. I need to escape from this place that’s ready to forget about me. I need to find where I belong. I need to drop everything that I’ve ever worked for and try again. I need to find the place that I’ve been looking for.
I don’t feel welcomed here. I feel like every time people acknowledge my presence, their quality of life diminishes. Inside their heads are thoughts only of hatred and resentment. If I were somewhere else burdening no one then I’d be happy, even if I wasn’t happy.
I’m often caught letting my thoughts wandering to a place that has nothing. A room with no windows or doors, covered in plain white paint from top to bottom. In the middle, I sit by myself, away from civilization; away from reality.
I feel like I belong there. When I’m in a secluded room with no one to bother or burden, people asking the same questions that they asked about Schrodinger’s cat, that’s when I feel most at home. People aren’t stuck tripping over me. They’re not troubled with my presence. They can give me all of the thought that they want to or don’t. They can forget about me as easily as a fish forgets the dangers of a hook.
But instead, I’m forced to exist with everyone else who finds being much easier. Being a human. Being a friend. Being a brother, sister or loved one. Being anything that’s not a burden. Being something that exists to be something other than a nuisance. Being happy. Being better than me. I belong anywhere but here, but where I belong most of all is in a place where the only questions asked are if I’m alive or dead, without care for the answer.