Seguir siendo.

It was one of those days.

Everything was fine on my way home, just closed the door, got into my room and everything was so fucked up.

I just couldn't stop hearing those voices all loud:

‘I'm done.

I'm fucking done

I'm sick of this shit’

An endless loop, rushed and overwhelmed.

I just layed on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

‘I'm sick of this shit.’

Like I said, an endless bunch of words.

Needed some distraction, changed my clothes, getting ready for a night run.

Thinking the same words all over again, while I fast walk in the hallway.

Then I clenched my fists and teeth, noticed something wasn't right.

Tried to stop all that ‘fast thinking’ but I just couldn't.

I ended up here writing this kind of shit.

It was one of those days.