mo0nlit
New Member
- May 12, 2026
- 1
I often try to escape reality. The worlds and stories in my head have lost their spark, their creativity and joyfulness, but they are the only things that keep me sane.
My daydreams are dark, mostly about suicide or losing my family. Still, both are thoughts that comfort me.
But I could never admit that to anybody I know.
I am trapped, not by physical walls, but by a moral duty I feel toward my parents. And I hate it. I hate them, even though I know they love me and aren't bad people. And some part of me wishes they were gone, that I could finally be at peace and stop dragging myself forward.
I don't have friends, not anymore. No one I can talk to, no one who comforts me or helps me through life. The only people I have left, the only ones who would help me, are the people who are the reason for my despair and who hurt me the most.
As a child, I was always told how grown up I am and how mature my behavior was. I was so proud of it. It was the only thing people recognized and acknowledged, and I tried my best to live up to it.
Now, as an young adult, the desire to be seen, held, and comforted is burning me alive. I finally feel like the helpless child I once was. But I am no longer that child. And knowing that hurts even more.
I broke apart a long time ago and simply can't function in the way everyone expects. But as an adult, this just means I am left behind.
I am tired of this life, so I daydream about living the life of someone else. An better version of me.
My daydreams are dark, mostly about suicide or losing my family. Still, both are thoughts that comfort me.
But I could never admit that to anybody I know.
I am trapped, not by physical walls, but by a moral duty I feel toward my parents. And I hate it. I hate them, even though I know they love me and aren't bad people. And some part of me wishes they were gone, that I could finally be at peace and stop dragging myself forward.
I don't have friends, not anymore. No one I can talk to, no one who comforts me or helps me through life. The only people I have left, the only ones who would help me, are the people who are the reason for my despair and who hurt me the most.
As a child, I was always told how grown up I am and how mature my behavior was. I was so proud of it. It was the only thing people recognized and acknowledged, and I tried my best to live up to it.
Now, as an young adult, the desire to be seen, held, and comforted is burning me alive. I finally feel like the helpless child I once was. But I am no longer that child. And knowing that hurts even more.
I broke apart a long time ago and simply can't function in the way everyone expects. But as an adult, this just means I am left behind.
I am tired of this life, so I daydream about living the life of someone else. An better version of me.