Leaving

Sometimes i think of leaving.
to leave.
to leave your troubles
and worries and...just go.
it wouldn't be hard.
it wouldn't be painful.
but it would be empty.
no.
life is not meant to be empty,
but full.
too full.
full of...life...happiness...love
why then, does it feel so cold? so empty?
why should i even be writing this?
life is so beautiful.
but why does it feel like I'm looking through a window at a warm fire then?
with people laughing inside.
with my nose up against the glass?
i push and push
but the harder i push, the colder the glass presses against my face.
why won't someone open the window?
what did i do?
the more i stand there on the threshold, the more i think i should leave.
it wouldn't be hard.
it wouldn't be painful.
but it would be empty.
Life is not meant to be empty