It's easier, I'm sorry.

Some nights are harder than others.

I think that every single grown up person on this planet has said this at least once in their lives.

Sometimes breathing is harder. Feeling is harder. Loving, being, living, handling yourself, surviving, wanting to survive, all these are harder.

I first considered taking myself away from this world about two years ago.

I never thought of methods, especially because I know I would never have the guts.

But I keep thinking of the differences.

None.

No positive outcome and I'd even destroy the life of at least 4 people. I think it's 4.

So, that's what keeps me alive.

I haven't existed in a long time.

I haven't been out. I haven't seen a movie. I haven't attended a concert. I haven't been to a restaurant. I haven't visited the shops I love just to be inside of them.

I killed my life when I left Rio. I don't know how to give me a new one.

I have shopped, though.

More than I should.

It should be easy. It shouldn't be complicated. It should, but isn't.

I still have no clue.

Will I ever do?