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 interact with...they drain me.

I crave a deep connection with anything or anyone... someone who wants to pamper me until my bones are filled with flesh again.

I feel so confused. Am I complicated? I want to stop worrying.I want to stop thinking.

I want to float thoughtlessly into a calm void. My eyes are tired.