It happens every Sunday.
When the weekend has passed, and yet another week is about to start.
We're going back to school. To work. To our daily routines.
This thing is growing inside of me. In my stomach.
This ice-cold black monster. But not the kind you check for under your bed. No, much worse.
It's fear. Fear of going back to reality. It feels like the comforting blanket, that is staying at home for two days, is being ripped away by cruel mechanic hands. It is the very same hands that forces me back on track. I don't see any sense for me to be in school - if only for education.
Because the people there, my so called "class-mates" or "friends", they couldn't care less if I'm there or not. So why should I even be there? No one gives a fuck.
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