I’m sorry if my words hurt you. But I know that you know they have at least some truth in them. You give me love and care. But you don’t give me freedom. Freedom to make my own choices. Freedom to have experiences. Freedom to talk to you. When I try to break free, you just give me that sarcastic smile and reinforce the shackles that imprison me to you. I can’t be what I really want to be because you make me feel like I have something to prove. So, I try to live by your standards, but I’m not happy. If I could be anywhere else but here, I would be. You don’t see what this is doing to me. I’m young, but I feel old, seeing the years slip by through my fingers without being able to do anything about it.
You don’t see me breaking.
And that’s why you’ll never see me leaving.