I think I am allergic. Am I wrong in the fact I am force feeding my brain to love something that’s just never felt right. My body is loathing a place I should be calling home, but should I really be calling this my home? Because you see, feeling ‘at home’ means to be comfortable and I sure as hell have never felt any sense of contentment no matter how hard I’ve tried. And all these years people have implied that the environment I live in is of something to be beautified. Is this because we are trying to hide the true pain that lies inside? How are we still satisfied? The fact my quote on quote 'home’ has a higher rate of suicide than cities with over 400,000 more people makes me wonder if we really even try. Do we try? Aversion, Resentment, Revulsion, Pain. Not even the most steadfast could remove these things from our broken city. Is that hateful remark you said earlier really a joke? Do you take satisfaction in the way you backstab the people you said were your friends? Are you proud of yourself? Are you allergic too? - @keeping-content