AHHHH

Sometimes I see myself as young.

Rare, but it happens. Never so much in myself but more my life? I feel young because my life is so childish?

I still live at home, idk how to cook. That is kinda funny honestly as I was left home alone a lot as a kid. But frozen food works fine.

I feel old more than I feel young though. It’s in the way I work, like I’ve been doing it for 20+ years and not the 4. In the way people listen to me, older or younger, because I’m usually right, usually know what I’m on about. In the way my body aches, the way I stress about money, groceries, my siblings, my mother and a million other things.

I don’t go out, I don’t party, I’ve never gotten black-out drunk. Whatever friends I have, I haven’t had a real conversation with any of them in months.

I feel empty in a way that I can’t quite explain. Feel lost but also like there’s no where that I belong.

I don’t get how people can just do it? Life, go after things, live. I don’t understand it.

I don’t want anything, nothing specific. I know I need to move because this house has been suffocating me since birth.

Yet whenever I bring it up my mother has ways of making me feel guilty, or she tells me she’s just going to follow me. I don’t have the balls to tell her that she’s the reason I need to leave.

I’ve considered just leaving, not telling anyone till I'm gone. But what if nothing changes?

What if it’s just part of me? The loneliness, the emptiness, the pain. What if I fail? I move, I put in the effort just to end up on the side of the road begging for change.

What if I succeed? Face the truth that what’s supposed to be home was always the problem. That my mother, the person who birthed me and somewhat raised me was the poison inside me?

I’m in denial about it now because I love her and I feel bad for her. Sure, part of me knows that she’s an awful mother, an awful person but she is still my mother yk?

I really wanna go. I want to run. I’ve wanted to since I was a kid and the desire, the itch under my skin has never left me. But can I live with the guilt? Can I thrive alone?