Strange Place

I live in a place where I pretend to feel at home.

It is better to pretend, so as to avoid the extreme opposite feeling.

I am choosing to not dwell on sadness for thinking that I am happy makes me feel happy.

I realize that I can make my own choices now, and it is frightening.

I am reliable for my own happiness, and that is reality.

Reality is me controlling my actions, and the outcomes that would surely be to come.

Life can be predictable, but it is something I am too timid to predict. 


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