enough.
i fucking give up.
you're always going to be disappointed in me no matter what.
even if i decide to actually try for once.
your expectations of me will just get higher and higher,
even more unreachable than they were to begin with.
you always want more;
always, endlessly,
searching for something better.
but what if i'm happy just being me?
just being.
moving on, progressing,
i'm sick of it.
i don't know what it is
to live without a care in the world.
i want to be free.
i want to make my own decisions.
i want to fail. i want to succeed.
i want to let things happen,
without knowing they will.
i want to know what it feels like,
to tell the whole truth,
no lies, no missed out details.
but you don't understand me,
so it will never be so.
