You know he’s not happy, but persists nonetheless, going through the motions of the day, doing what he thinks he’s “supposed” to be doing for everyone in his little world.

He gives and gives and takes nothing for himself, and then wonders why he feels so angry.

He needs space but can’t get it, he needs understanding but doesn’t have it.

He’s trapped in a hell of his own making and can’t find a way out.

“Have you ever been so lost, that you became free?” he asked me.

“I was lost and you found me. You’ll never be free.”

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I’m experiencing with different writing styles, as long as they all add up to exactly 100 words, and trying a new AI image generator to help keep looking the same around here. I hope that doesn’t steer you away from my words.