I Feel DeadThere are so many things out there to do, and so much life to live. I feel like I'm trapped in a box, a coffin if you will, with a window to the world outside.
The people that put me in the coffin were my husband and children. I don't think they meant to, but they put me here. They keep me here.
If I want anything for myself or if I do anything for myself, they tantrum from the youngest to the oldest. They make life a living hell if I try to do something of my own. If I try to go to school, if I try to pratice my art, if I try to read--hell, if I try to use the bathroom undesturbed.
And I hate them for it.
I hate them for sucking me dry of life.
I hate being yelled at because dinner is late.
I hate being scolded like a child for spending too much time on something of my own.
If I could run away tomorrow, I would. And I would never look back.