It's 12:03pm. And I don't think I'll ever stop feeling this way. Like existence itself is pulling on the back of my shirt and telling me I don't belong. I can't decipher whether its my mind or the weight of the world. Most nights at 12:03am I am laying awake thinking the same thing I was in the daylight. To ask if I am fine is a question I am unsure of how to answer, because I have become so accustomed to feeling such a way that, it is only on the days that I don't that the words "are you okay?" Should be uttered to me. I don't want to be a part of real life anymore, is that so wrong?
