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"Existence is.. well.. what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future. The present is well out of hand."

I'm tired of feeling secretly ashamed of myself for being myself. There is no façade as far as I can determine, and I know my mind pretty well. The silence is all I have and behind it is a wall of cold steel nothingness. My head said to me, "You should stop feeling guilty." And I'd really like to travel now, y'know that feeling of curious exuberance that grips you all of a sudden and you realize that you could just roam, roam, roam until you dropped, see the sights, experience new emotions, a different way to perceive the world? I feel it now. There's few people I'd travel with, but if I did I'd pick them carefully. It would be something for us to share, something wholly new. And every opportunity that I stupidly allowed to pass by me without much thought would be seized in an instant, I wouldn't need to worry anymore. I'd be tired, so tired at the end of it, but it wouldn't matter because it'd be the kind of exhaustion that permits you to lean your head on your partner's shoulder affectionately at the end of the day and sigh with a serene smile. It'd be the kind of exhaustion that feels like sunrise and starshine and bright morning light that glints off cars and puddles and windowpanes in shards, and then I'd be able then to fully comprehend that I should stop lamenting what I don't have in comparison to other people and instead embrace what I have but they don't.