I have the semblance of togetherness when I’m really falling apart. No one sees me when I silently weep. I don’t know what it is exactly that I am so unhappy with. I think it’s just my general depression leaking through me and taking over my being. I can’t seem to pull it together anymore. The wall is cracking. I can no longer fake those smiles to make other people comfortable with being around me. My aura is heavy. My presence comes with a baggage too heavy for most. No one wants to carry me and no one should. I need to pick up my pieces and carry myself to a new me. A better version of myself. A happier me. Like the one they sing about in those songs and preach about in those sermons and teach about in those inspirational spirituality seminars. Where is that version of me? Where did she go? Is she just on vacation or did she permanently leave my physical body and is now roaming the globe in search of some higher state of existence. I feel dead inside, except for the fact that I feel this immense pain–a deep seeded emptiness that could rake a hole through rocky ground. No one wants this baggage. It’s too much even for myself. I’m making changes but they have a lag effect. My state isn’t changing quickly enough for my mind to realize the subtleties in my actions. I’m stuck in the past. I try as hard as I can to sweep and sweep away my memories. I even try to rewrite my own history to make myself cope with some of the things I’ve done. I try to justify the past by creating different scenarios, different explanations. But to no avail. One moment I feel great about myself and the next minute I’m my worst critic. I’m throwing tomatoes at the holes in my fabricated stories. At first I try desperately to dodge, but I quickly give up and sit. I sit and get pummeled by this fruit in disguise. Much as myself. I’m walking in a cloak of my own persona. The perception of myself is far from my reality. You may see some simple young female, but inside I’m torn up, lonely, fearful, complicated. I can barely move two steps in my mental state. My body is in motion yet I’m stuck. I’m trying to change yet I’m still held back by that notion of “stay stabile, don’t rock the boat, it’s really not so bad here, stay a bit more.” But I know this is all a lie. It is not okay here. I desperately desire my departure from this current place where I’m shackled by this institution and held down by conformity. I long to leave yet my fears are disguised by practicality. Staying is safe, leaving is fearful. Nay!!! Staying is deathly, leaving is freedom. 

Go on a journey with me, Reader. 

-Sabrina 

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