How Are You?

Sickly. I awake each day and vomit from the filth I'm surrounded by. I awake each day and I wish I could crawl in a dark hole six feet under with no one but me, myself, and I. Anxious. I never know who I can spill my life too and who will hate crime me. I never know if I'll be able to amass the funds to leave here. Scared. I can see the one's I'll lose when they find out. I can see the one's who will curse and shout. Hopeless. I struggle every morning to get out of bed because I can't imagine a world that calls me its own. I struggle every morning to catch a glimpse of optimism in all the hatred my family has sewn. Proud. I am proud I have made it this far... so much farther than I could have imagined. I am proud I am still alive. Breathing. Feeling. Dreaming.