Backs of cereal boxes

I dont know what I'm doing with myself. But I do. I made a shitty plan to just play things by ear. Yet, that's a lie as well. Because I dont know if I could ever actually do that? Ya know, just let life go and be free and happy. I am not free. This life is not freedom, this life is prison. We are led to believe we are free. And I am not happy. Happy is what the fake people are. The people who mask their other emotions and say that they're happy overall. Yes, that's a lie too. That's really not what happy is. But what is happy anyway? How much purchase does happiness have when you're not even sure what it is. It's just a word. These are all just words that we use to describe emotions and feelings we have. But do the letters h,a,p,p,y combined really explain how you feel? Can s,h,i,t together really explain how you hurt? I'm not sure c,u,n,t does either. Though it does feel good to say. I'm not sure what I'm feeling these past few weeks, but it's not happiness. I guess I'm feeling normal, like a normal, functioning human being. Another number in this world, not living and laughing and feeling important. And I dont know what I'm saying anymore.

I believe I have gotten to a point in my life where I just need to feel. I have been weak for nineteen years and now I'm ready to be shaken and broken and bruised and tormented. The scars and black and blues I have on my skin do not count. I have not had real experiences to complain about. Petty things compared to things at large. But I have been driving behind this wheel for nineteen years, making my own decisions, always using the signals, always aware of other peoples' little cars driving past. For nineteen years I have been focused on me and my safety and the well-being of others and I'm about ready to feel less safe. I want to let someone else drive now. I'm ready for that, ya know? I'm ready to be vulnerable and let someone else take the wheel of my car. Take care of me. Make me feel things. I dont want to be numb anymore. I dont want to be dependent on myself, I want to be reliant on someone else. Pump my gas, pay for my gas, use my signals, honk my horn, adjust my mirrors. Fuck up my world a little bit, ya know? I'm ready. I'm just afraid to pull over and let someone else switch the gears and spin the wheels. When will I pull over and let someone else take control of my numbness? When will I just say fuck you and just let you do it. Huh? Tell me, please.