Like a snake shedding its old skin. Its itchy and uncomfortable. Heavy and bothersome. Makes the insides of the stomach roll around in anxiety and half disgust.
Like a baby spider trying to crawl out of its egg. Clawing at the sack with desperate motions. Just trying, trying hard to escape. To reach the air. To be able to breathe the fresh and no longer be entrapped. Their legs kick hard; it's an angry and hateful fight.
Like a teenager thats stuck between trying to be an adult and wanting to be a child. Not sure if it's okay to cry or maybe it's time to take a stand. Get a job, study, go tsk poo n responsibilities. I want to cry. Because I don't know how to do any of it. I want to scream no one taught me but know that's too pitiful. Not enough of an excuse.
So I wonder, maybe even fantasize, excuse myself with maybe I'm depressed or maybe bipolar.
I just know there's this constant war of everything and I just want it to stop. I want to be able to sit down and breath without that anxiety welling up, and the rampant thoughts throwing a parade.
I need to find the crack in this body. Target that weakness and break out. Or maybe stay in?
Happy belated birthday. I want to crawl out of my skin.
I hate this feeling. Or maybe I hate myself.
I wish I was a butterfly. So I could escape this cocoon.