Eighty thousand is an understatement. There are too many thoughts streaming through my head, none of which I can grab a hold of. What is this? What is any of this? What does it mean? I don't know. I keep turning a corner to find a street full of potholes and cardboard boxes in my way. When I get to the end of the block and go inside for safety, it's a place I can't trust. "That's what life is - a series of rooms. And the people you get stuck in those rooms with makes up who you are." No one ever distinguished which rooms were safe, no one ever distinguished which rooms were comfortable or awkward or empty or quiet or not the rooms you wanted.

I find myself to be overwhelmed on a daily basis with all of the things I am concerned with. I try to put them aside and forget about it. I surround myself with others to get these things off of my mind, and in the end, those things are still there. I can't get away from them. Even when I deal with them, they're still there. I second guess everything and I hate that, absolutely hate that. I almost don't know what I want anymore. And it's not even about not knowing what I want, it's about not knowing if I can have the things I want. Sometimes I just want to give up. Sometimes I just want to run. Sometimes I just want to scream. Sometimes I just want the little things that used to make me happy to return. Sometimes I just want to know how I feel about people without questioning it. Sometimes I just want you to show me who you are.

xoxo DannDann