I Thought Leaving Would Feel Like Freedom.
After a month, everything seems so normal and dull... as if nothing ever happened. I am happy, but I feel empty. I waited for this for the longest time... three years and counting. I honestly did not like how I left things. It felt rushed. It felt sad. And honestly, if I could go back in time... I would probably do it the same way. I can't help but blame myself for leaving a toxic environment. I was suffering. Scars have been drawn on my body. Unwanted habits have now become normal for me. I feel restless. I am exhausted. I am tired, yet I feel like I don't deserve sleep. Why, though? I only left because I was tired of being exploited. I want to be selfish. I want to put myself first. I have been nothing but a dirty doormat. My mind, soul, and body crave peace and sleep, but I feel like the moment I lay down, I will fall behind. Am I over exaggerating my grief? Or am I trying to convince myself that leaving was the wrong step? I feel lonely. I don't crave people to intera...
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