I play scenes in my head that I can’t forget. I play scenes I love. I play the impossible.
I practice things I want to say. Then I find out there’s nothing left to say anymore.
I have endless “WHAT IFs”. Endless.
I make plans for the next day only to realise my days are always the same. Wake up. Go to work. Eat. Come home. Sleep.
I think of all the people I miss. The people I love.
I think of the ones I hate. The one who hurts my feelings. The fucktard.
I ask myself questions, actually more like I have a conversation with myself.
Something’s not right. I sense it. My gut tells me so. This feeling of insecurity again. Maybe it’ll be gone when I wake up.
But still… fuck mind… just shut up and let me sleep.