I hate myself. Not only because of my body, but for who I am. I am not poor. I have a wonderful brother and two amazing parents. I can go to school. I travel. I eat well. I live in a beautiful place. But why can't I be happy? Why do I always make the wrong choices? I am not brave at all. I chose easy when I could have chosen the right thing to do. I was lazy. I am lazy. I used to draw. I used to sing. I used to study. Now I just lay in my bed all day and cry. Or I watch Netflix. Nothing really productive. Sometimes I go out but all I do is smoking and then go back in my room. The room in which I put so much effort for it to look nice. But in the end it's just a big mess and I stay in my bed.
Every time I send a message to my friends I feel like it's useless. But aren't these little conversations important in friendship? I wonder. Maybe I'm just annoying and I should shut up and only speak when my friends find the need to. Or maybe then I'll be too boring? What should I do? How can we know the right decision we have to make? Maybe I shouldn't take my decisions so seriously and believe in destiny. Maybe someone has already decided what I'll do with my life. Or maybe not. Maybe I just need to be brave and face the world as it is. Maybe I should start to do something with my life. But, well, I'm too afraid of what I could find out of my comfort zone.
