Being

I’m  lying in my blanket. I’m thinking about everything, and then nothing at once.

I wonder how nice it will be to die right now. Just leave everything be. Go out slow, deep breathing, warm. Not having to fight something, for once.

Not having to worry about being inadequate, wrong, terrible. Not having to have things bouncing inside my head, unable to say them. Not hurting for the same things over and over and over again.

Not being tired. Of trying. Of being.

Can’t I have this, please?

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