I tried explaining to mum that i rather keep myself locked in my room with my fictional family than spend time with the real people outside. The amount shock on her face when i refered my movies and books as my fictional family was unbelievable;0;

I think about dying but I don’t want to die. Not even close. In fact my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic. There’s so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I’m still here in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can’t quite figure out what the hell I’m doing or how to get out of it.
Matty Healy (via ehtes)