the ability to fly

This is something I just wrote, and it's too early in the day to write in my diary, and frankly I have no desire to move, but somebody had to see it, if it were to be my diary or whoever happens to read this, it can't stay unread, do you see? Words are made to be read.

Everything's just so chaotic and disorganised and nothing makes sense. It's like standing in the middle of a crowded room, all alone, and even though everybody is screaming at the top of their lungs, to you it all melts away, and you think it's because you feel so alone inside but truth is, it's because you want to be alone, and the reason you want to be alone is because your unhappy. It's not normal unhappy either. This is deep unhappiness. This can be fatal if not treated in the right way. Deep unhappiness is like a ancient tree, the roots have grown so far down in the darkness that there is difficulty in locating them, but what's more, you can't seem to find anybody who will love you enough to dig deep enough for you. Everyone just digs enough to make a sandcastle and gives up, and you just wish you could let it all go. You wish there was someone who would leave the roots and just chop you down. Don't they see that's all it takes? Just chop you down so you can fly. So you can leave it all behind and fly.