i wake up in a room i call my own, but do not care for. a house that isnt a home. a body that isnt mine. devoid of feeling, i leave my bed. i do the same things i've done every day for the past years of my life. nothing is different anymore. i interact with people outside. interaction is hard. i return home. i waste time. i sleep. i wake up and the cycle continues. nothing is new. time starts to fly by as i waste my life on the mundane tasks society expects me to do. these tasks are not by choice but by expectation. who i am is no longer by choice but by expectation. i am a person is what i am expected to be. i do not want this nor do i like this. but it is not by choice. i want to live. but my means of living is not by expectation. the standards of what 'should' be is not what should be. but that is not my choice, it is society's exepctation. i wish to leave where i am. i wish to find home. but as of now, that is not the expectation i have been held up to. i want to be me, and fit into my own body. but as of now, that is not the expectation i have been held up to. instead, i am expected to live with the cycle of mundanity that i've been told is 'normal', and i as a mind have been repressed. i am not me. not yet.