Breathe, Just Breathe

If each one of my thoughts was an individual person standing in a room, the room would be crowded and not one person would be able to hear themselves think. That's how jumbled my thoughts are. My mother and aunt are chatting away about things that involve me. I can't bring myself to listen. I've heard it a thousand times over. Whether it be flower arrangements, seating arrangements, or even 'chicken or fish', my mind is elsewhere. What would they do if I just packed up and left, traveled the many continents without a care in the world or ever looking back.

I wish I knew what the ocean looks like, what it smells like, or even what the seagulls above sound like. I've never been out of my country, let alone my town. I would give anything to feel sand between my toes, or to dance in the middle of a thunderstorm. But I fear I'll never live like that, live with passion and life. In many definitions I am alive; I walk, I talk, breathe, eat, sleep. But i'm not alive on the inside, my heart is dead, encased in a robot body that follows the may orders given to it.

For years it was as if I was screaming at the top of my lungs and nobody even bothered to notice. After a while, I just stopped screaming. Hope left me, left me with hurt, left me with sadness and pain, left me with nothing to look forward to, and most of all, left me with my mother.