A bottle of cola
Shaken to the core, ready to explode; unable to because of the cap. I've never learnt how to vent anger nor sadness, creativity being the only way to express myself. The problem is I won't let myself be creative, so those emotions eventually developed a chronic depression. Extrovert, becoming introverted. I have many ideas, many things I want to do. When I open the blank canvas it all disappears, leaving my mind exhausted in fear. No one should feel like this, but the more I hear and read about how the people I love feels, the more I think we're suffering in a similar way. Aren't we all lonely? Scared to be ourselves, to be rejected? Doing in most cases a job we tolerate, or worst having to prove that the job we chose for ourselves was the right decision? How could we feel safe and happy, if the simple act of creation becomes a just a number in the pool of activities we have to complete to demonstrate we are productive and a functioning human being? If every chat becomes a mental chess of thinking how someone would feel if we said what we wanted to say (in a cordial way)? And it's all an ouroboros of weird connections, thinking we're not doing it right, when maybe on the other side someone is feeling wrong in the same way. Generating a crossword of misunderstandings. It may be. You know, wanting to end my own life is a possibility I think of everyday. Everything is so hard, my energy lacking. I feel unloved most of the time, to the point where everything seems worthless. Maybe you're feeling the same. But since we're in this together, and we die the same, maybe we can try watching our lives unfold. Together, expressing ourselves. I would love to do so with you.