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Restlessness. Contained. Withdrawn. All the freedom in the world and yet…barred. He feels like running. And yet, he doesn’t see it doing him any good. He wants to bang his head against the wall. And yet, he doesn’t see it doing him any good. He wants to jump and leap. And yet, he doesn’t feel like it. He wants to smoke. And yet, he doesn’t.
Restlessness. Impatience. Waiting. Endlessly, it seems. It frustrates him. And yet, he does it willingly, day after day…Day after fucking day. Routine stays the same. There’s no change.
Restlessness. Depression. Engulfs him and it goes dark. And yet, it’s bright enough for him to recognize the apparent hopelessness of it all. 5…4…it counts down. And yet, he doesn’t get what he wants. Not what he needs, no. What he wants. What he fucking wants more than anything else in the world.
Restlessness. Sacrifice. He stays back, withdrawn, in what feels like his cage, in the hope that he’ll get what he wants…the hope, yeah…it’s carried him through. But how much longer can he wait patiently.
Restlessness. Anger. It’s partly his fault that he’s been waiting. Waiting, all through the years, albeit for differing reasons at different points.
Anger.
Vent. Release. Scream. Jump. Restlessness eases…
Diary
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