I feel smothered.
I need my freedom back. I need a day, or two, or three... maybe even a month, of complete and unbridled freedom. I need anonymity, I need SPACE. I need... I need to breathe. I miss being able to breathe. I don't want this propriety that society has shoved in my face, I don't want this responsibility of having to be a model citizen. I want to LIVE. I want to be able to run through open fields and not fear judgement or ridicule, or prying, pitying eyes. I want to be ME.
I need to make decisions with no one watching, no one's approval pending like a guillotine over my head. I need to spread my wings, to fly, to feel, to sing, to BE. I need... I need many things, and want many things, and most of the time none of them really become mine. I am shallow, and superficial and selfish. I am twenty-two going on twenty-three and the universe inside me is beginning to spill out, and it's getting heavier to carry, but I'll be fine. I'm always fine, even when I'm not; even when I am depressed beyond measure and refuse to eat, to talk, to exist, I am fine. I always am, and always will be.
I have this smile plastered on my face, and even when the edges begin to crack from the strain of keeping it up, it's still there. I will grin, and bear it, because I do not need your judgement, and I do not want your pity. You can take those and shove it up places on your person where the sun does not shine.
I am the storm, I am the flame. I am strong, and I am unbreakable. I am the hero of this God-damned story and I do not need saving. I am woman; hear me roar.
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