I give up. I’ve been holding things together. Forcing things. I’ve been holding together this image of what I wanted my life to be. What I had. What I might have. I’m done. I can’t anymore. I’m tired of forcing things. I’m tired of holding all these dreams, goals, things together.

To most of us, happiness is a choice that’s made *right now*. I’m letting go of everything else. I’m tired of pretending. I give up striving. Being part of the rat race. Comparing. Competing. Waiting. Waiting to be happy. Forcing things to work out. Being someone because that’s what I thought people wanted me to be. A good friend. A good boyfriend. A good employee. A good son. Doing the things. Playing the game. Winning it. Losing it. Scheming. Strategizing. Planning. What’s waiting for me, at the end of it? What do I have to give up? How much longer should I be someone I’m not?

I need a break. I give up. I’m letting go. Whatever.