The truth is, I hate my life. I wake up every morning wishing it was my last. I kiss my family goodnight and pray that I won’t wake up the next morning. I wish that I wouldn’t have to live another day, won’t have to suffer anymore. Because every day is a battle. I spend my days failing to distract my mind from the event that changed my life. I spent my days questioning if the thoughts, dreams and nightmares will ever end. If I will ever be able to move on, and actually live my life.

I have this dream of living alone in a secluded area. Just packing my bags, and leaving. Maybe to a different country, or maybe just down the road, but a place where no one would know where I am. I dream of being a mystery, disappearing from daylight. Strolls through wooded areas, sitting by a pond or river with no problems, just a book.

I want to go, I need to go.

The truth is I don’t actually want to die, I just want to escape reality. Escape day to day life. Never look back. I thought living on my own would change the way I think, but it doesn’t. It just makes me want it more. But sadly, these are just dreams. Im not a child, nor am I stupid, I know these types of realities happen for those living in the lap of luxury. I know that in order to survive, I have to work. I have to work a crappy nine to five job, come home, cook food, sleep and repeat all the next day. But what harm does dreaming cause? Because dreaming is my escape from reality, even just for a moment.

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