Sometimes I want to make silly mistakes that lead to big problems. Sometimes I just want to sit back and watch my own world fall apart. I want to be the one who cries first when something goes wrong. I want to demand, complain, and blame people. I want to be the innocent victim of my own mistakes.
This careful life is tiring. It takes so much energy to stay composed all the time. Sometimes I wish I could just lose control, stop holding everything together, and simply exist — like I’m floating in the sea, not swimming, not surviving, just letting the waves decide.
Every night I lie in bed, awake, staring into the dark. It’s become my kind of meditation. In those moments, it feels like I’m the only person in the world. The silence of the night is strangely comforting, and a part of me hopes it will never end. But then the sun rises, and another careful day begins.
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