Unfriendly

Sometimes the world is the last place you want to be. This world is everything that you hate, sometimes. That time is now for me. I cannot stand being here. I cannot take any more of this suffocation. I hate everything about this materialistic, monotonous madness.
My parents are being very much like themselves. They are not content with what I do. They do not trust my capabilities. They do not support my decisions. And I am the only one at fault. I am the innocent fool. I am the easily flattered child. I am the careless disappointer. I wish they were not a part of me. Or more appropriately, sometimes I wish I was not a part of them. I don't mean to say they are bad people, or bad parents. No. I will always be at fault.
My friends could not care less. Who are my friends? Where are they? They are far away. Too far to hear my suffocated thoughts, or feel my dry tears on their skin. I trust them. I love them. But now, I need them not. They are not the ones who I want to share these thoughts with. They are the ones sitting in coffee houses, enjoying themselves; while I lie in my bed, numb to this unreal world.
My love. Though he is not here physically, I know we share a bond; unbreakable. But I can't take it anymore. I can't bear the distance. We are so very close. I can feel him all through my mind. But I don't want us to be broken down by our distorted surroundings. It's so painful to be there, wanting so desperately to say so many things, but we can't breathe a word. Like in autumn when you're walking ahead, and the wind, sand and leaves rush at your face, rustling you and leaving you flustered. The world is our autumn wind. And they never leave us alone. I want to run away with him to a far off place, that only we know. Somewhere real. A space in time, where we can be ourselves and say all that we want to, do all that we've dreamed of. I need to escape with him to a somewhere, someday, where nothing and nobody can ever tear us apart.