Why?Mature

Why am I only happy asleep? Why can I only feel at peace in another world, where I impose cruel fates on figures of imagination. Why do I know these characters better than myself. I know their quirks, their good and bad sides. Yet I have yet to understand my thought processes. I spend so long over analysing everything.
Why did I react that way?
Why didn't that make me happier?
Why did I get so annoyed by a small thing?
My day was fine, then that small trigger made me irritable, why?
Always why, I can never just accept. I try to grasp for simple explanations, clinging to a past I left behind. Hoping to explain inadequacies away that just simply exist.

The End

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