I don’t know

There are so many things I don’t know. I don’t know where I’ll be next year. I don’t know why I care so much of what people think about me or what people say about me. I don’t know why I let people step on me as if I were a doormat. I don’t know how I can act like I’m so happy but on the inside I’m screaming with all my might. I’m screaming to get out, screaming to do what I want but fearful of the outcome. Fearful of the consequences. Fearful of my family. Scared of what they will say if I do something wreckless or if I do something stupid. But you know what, that’s why I left. I left to be free, I left to be me.