The night felt endless, like a mirror reflecting all the things I wish I could change about myself.
I watched the rain fall and wondered if it envied the ground for having something to hold it.
The tireless feeling drowns me, but not enough to suffocate me, just enough so that I choke on the water I inhale when I come up for air.
I sat on the bus, alone with my thoughts but not confiding in them, an unusual formality.
I begin to wonder if I'm truly destined for a life of silent disatisfaction.
I am consumed by all that I lack and I have lost sight of the surface.
"I'm tired but I have enough energy to keep torturing myself"
What am I even doing with my life?