Then a moment passed and the last thing I thought about was how much it isn't going to hurt if I walked away. Why don't I deserve happiness? Well, actually, there are plenty of reasons. I'm kind of a shitty person, but at least I can own up to it. Yeah, maybe it's a little fucked up. I'm a little fucked up.
I don't know what I am. I know I'm not happy, but at least I'm not sad. I used to frown at the thought of me being this neutral, emotionless pit that didn't give a shit about who I hurt, what I did. I used to spite myself for being that person. "No, you can't do that. Don't you feel bad? God, you're a terrible human being. How do you live with yourself?"
The past few weeks, however, I've come to realize, so what? Feeling nothing is fucking amazing. All I've ever wanted was to not feel anymore pain. Not feel bad. I was doing it to myself. I think too much, that's always been a problem of mine. Everything is so much better when I just shut my brain off, and lock my heart up, throwing away the key. Maybe someone will pick that key up, maybe someone will save me from myself. Sure, eventually I want to settle down, be a mature adult, be the woman I've always aspired to be. That doesn't mean I have to be that person now when I have the opportunity to take advantage of my age.
So, for now, I'm not going to be unhappy. I can focus on happiness later in life, I have a whole one ahead of me. Right now, I'm going to laugh. I'm going to shed the weight off my shoulders and have them on reserve for later. I've got this new, shiny case around my heart. There goes the key, out my window. Time for some fun, time to explore. Fuck you.
