Work Text:
How I hate the fear of missing out.
A feeling I mischaracterize and pretend to feel.
I fear a sedentary life.
I hate being home.
Feeling trapped in a place I once found peace in.
I want to love living.
I want to be happy when I’m not doing elaborate things.
Stuck feeling like a shark, I will surely die if I stop moving.
I run around doing nothing and feeling everything.
I distract myself and hope I feel fulfilled,
But then I pull back into my driveway.
I park.
And all that love I found is lost again as I walk through that door.
I’ll have to find it again tomorrow.
I don’t miss rotting away in my room.
I miss the joy it brought me.
In the same way, I miss the joy I feel outside my home when I have to stay here.
I fear I’ll be a miserable adult.
Unable to find peace wherever I go.
Someday, the outdoors will stop giving me that rush of life I feel now.
I will have nowhere to feel alive.
And I will die.
Because what else will there be for me then?