I am.

I am disappointed. Furious. Frustrated.

I want to shout and scream, I want to trash glasses and plates to hear their breaking noise.

I am suicidal. I imagine over and over again how I drive full speed into walls and crash my car beyond recognition. And I imagine my body like the wooden mannequins that always get smashed and torn when used for driver safety tests.

I am disappointed.

I am tired. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Humble.

I am crying too much. I am running too little. I am afraid of the sunshine. I am, again, afraid of the green green grass.

I am, again, afraid of people.