I don’t want to write

I don’t want to write right now. 

When I write it makes everything seem so dramatic and full of self pity.

And if it doesn’t then it isn’t good. I guess we like seeing our pain above others that much since we don’t understand them, only ourselves. We’re the same creature and yet we feel so far apart. Emotions become so tiring.

I just want to lay in bed doing nothing for however long I want. Letting not even time hold me back from my desire because one day wouldn’t be enough, a week wouldn’t. 

Please let me be.

I’m tired of needing to do things and be a part of this story game we call society. 

My life is like any book, movie, or game you play. I’m born, I do what I’m told, I don’t do too well, fall in love, and try to grow. 

And I keep trying to grow every single day.

I used to be so persistent in trying to know how I felt about things. I wanted to build strong morals I could believe are absolute. I wanted to work on myself, see things from others perspectives and gain an understanding of how this world works. 

I took everything seriously.

I didn’t want to smile. I didn’t want to go play. I hated the looks, voices, and bent knees. All I wanted was for them to stop treating me like a child. I wanted to be an adult, get my life started and be as successful as possible.  

Now I wish time would stop.

I ignore problems, feelings, and morals. After all that thinking I came to the grand conclusion that it’s all just too confusing. There isn’t an absolute, at least not one that exists in this world. 

Why waste time trying to find one? 

I realize I didn’t enjoy my childhood even nearly enough as I should so now I just want the perks of being a teen. I mean little me couldn’t wait to be one and adults wish they could go to this age sometimes. They say we have way less problems. Well I’m gonna enjoy those less problems. 

I’ll be the stupidest teen who wears the most outrageous clothing and is dramatic about everything. 

Especially this stupid writing.