.

I am sad. Real sad. Call it devastated. Call it destroyed.
I have no home to go back to where I can feel safe.
The closest thing I have to a home is a green couch 8700 km away.

I have myself constantly questioning where I wanna go, what I wanna do.
I am scared to go away to somewhere I do not know anybody.
But does it make a difference? The people I love are already so so far away most of the time.
What's the difference if I put a few hundred more kilometres between us?

I feel unworthy of the people taking care of me.
And I am angry at those pretending to care for me.

I feel like I am taking advantage of all the people around me.
It seems to me that there is nothing I can give back to those who are always there for me.

I am torn apart between what I feel is reality and what I think is reality.
And my feelings are usually the winner of the match.
They cloud my perception. They distort my view. They hit my skull with a hammer.
Until I believe that what I feel must be true.

I am struggling to keep my helmet on.