I’m tired of making my life a means to an end.
A depository of perfection that grants me temporary redemption.
I’m tired of living like a circus animal, channelling my all into making others clap and gasp at how I can break illusionary walls and bend boundaries.
Emotional escort. Giving good mindfucks like a literary badass.
I’m tired of being treated like a test tube experiment and having to achieve remarkable things with my brain so that people could live vicariously through me
I hate not knowing what I really want and instead I find myself falling back on the expectations people have of me.
Because at least then I get some sense of gratification when I meet others expectations and for a moment I forget my existential qualms
I have all this creative power, I see things others don’t, understand things light-years ahead of others. I’m fearless and fierce. Yet, all that energy remains stagnant within me. I’m afraid of moving with it. I’m afraid that should I channel it, I’d be destroyed by it. Or I’d fail miserably and people would see me for the imposter I feel like I am, and there would be nothing left for me to hide behind. I feel like channelling who I really am inside is a suicide mission. But so is life, I guess. Either way I won’t get out alive.