I think about dying but I don’t want to die, not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic, theres so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m wasting every second, even now I’m writing this when I should be out there, I should be living. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell i’m doing or how to get out.

You can get a lot of things back, but you can’t get time back.

I can’t handle feeling like I haven’t been giving everything I could. The feeling I could have been more, better, prettier? It’s killing me.