Not being myself
And when I say that I’m not being myself… it’s for real.
I mean that I tend to lose touch with reality. I get back from work and I retire in my room, between those four walls who sometimes seem to be my only real friends. And I grieve. Or I think. Or I hope. Or I’m simply just feeling miserable.
And then, in order to stop feeling so miserable I start searching for stuff that I can be. Or situations I can be involved in. And I get so involved that when the night falls a long with the tears on my face, I don’t really know anymore who myself is.
And the sad part is… that that’s what I wanted in the first place: to forget about myself, my life… But then I go to sleep, and another morning comes, and I go to work and I realize that I put myself a side for a while now. And instead of shutting me out, I should start searching for me…
