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It's 4:00 am.
I stare at the ceiling,
The black ceiling, the black walls, the black door.
Everything dark as even the sun has yet to rise.
Why am I up before the streaks of orange and yellow flash across the sky?
Simple, I never fell asleep.
Words run rampant in my mind,
Images freeze behind my eyelids each time I close them.
There's this pressure on my chest that I can't seem to get rid of,
It's hard to swallow,
It's hard to breathe.
For the hundredth time, my eyes slide over to my phone.
The one that hasn't buzzed in days.
My hand twitches to grab it and just mindlessly scroll through social media.
But I don't want to.
I'm tired,
Tired of seeing posts about babies, houses, new cars, and jobs.
I'm tired of seeing posts about people having their life together and knowing what steps to take next.
I'm tired of reading posts addressed to people who are tired of seeing posts about people succeeding.
About how they shouldn't hate on people who are doing things with their life and just be happy.
I'm tired of it.
Because I'm one of those people.
I'm the person who scrolls past the post about the newest accomplishment.
Only to go back and just like it,
Because I know I shouldn't be upset about someone doing things with their life.
I'm tired of not being happy for them.
Because honestly, I want to be.
I want to look and say that's awesome and smile.
And mean it.
Except the first thing that comes to mind is,
Why can't I do that?
Am I even close to being where they are?
What if everything I'm doing is pointless?
And I know I shouldn't feel that way,
I know everyone feels this way,
I know it's normal to question if you're doing things right.
But that doesn't take away the pressure on my chest.
The anxiety in my lungs every time someone asks me what I've been up to.
The longing in my eyes when I see others sighing in content about their life.
And the anger in my heart knowing that I am not where I want to be yet.
Nor does it stop the thoughts that question me.
The ones that ask me if I'm doing everything possible,
If I'm trying hard enough,
If I even want it enough,
The ones that tell me that maybe,
I'm just not enough.
That it will all be for naught,
That I will end up in the place I've been terrified to end up in.
That I will have let down all those who have been watching me since I started.
I know what will happen if I fail.
If I have to pack up my bags and move back to that little town,
Get a job at the supermarket and spend my days checking out diapers and milk.
I won't only have let down me.
But everyone who put their faith in me.
The ones who never got a chance to leave that small town,
The ones who wanted to live out their dreams through me living out mine.
The ones who worked for me to get out to have that chance to live my dreams
The ones who are watching with stars in their eyes.
It's suffocating.
It's heavy.
It's tiring.
I just don't know how to tell them.
How much my shoulders hurt from this weight.
How much I struggle with these thoughts.
How much I wish I could take a moment and breath.
Without having my throat tighten,
And my chest be weighed down.
But I can't.
It would hurt them too much.
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