More space to breathe

I feel like some days there are hands grasped around my ankles preventing [ my escape .]

And when I finally break          out, they transform into my shadowshadow, followingme with eachstep that I take.

I think they are able to hear me every time I step    out.
They are attracted to thelaughter,theloudness andthesass.

The're like snakes that  s l o w l y  kill their pray, 1 second, 2 seconds and I am out of        breath.

Outside       (the comfort of my own space, I grow tired). Tired of the chatters, the gossip and the problems.

Being withpeople is exhaus  t  i  n  g,  how do people make friends again?

Because all throughout the day they come to me, perhaps it's my boisterous and talktative nature. People love to be teased by me as they  surrou me nd . Share to me their life stories and worries like I was some sort scientist they say  'Madam Curie-me.'

But then at the end of the day, when my a/t/t/i/r/e is scathed like a warrior coming back from war I run back home and wait to recharge.

Because the truth is that behind closed doors it's just me myself & I.

The >doors< are closed and it's just me and the darkness.

It's me in the silence_____|
Don't have to talk to anyone but relish in the quietness.

It's just me myself and I.

M o r e  s p a  c e   t o    b r e a t h e     o   u   t


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