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Sailing thru the unknown, steering past the peer. Nothing's there. I found a place to relapse, a noise in my mind. I placed my hand on the sand, and never looked back. I am landing on your breath; it's starting to pick away at me but I don't want what your eyes hold. Falling one-by-one she's all that I bleed so that I am landing on my own.
I really miss being a regular person. I mean, I barely even remember what it felt like, but I feel like it was good. I just want to be normal. Why can't I just be a regular person? Why do I always have to disassociate from everything? I'm literally mindless at this point, I can't remember the last time I actually had my own points to add to a conversation. I go to school, I go home, I go to bed, and there's just nothing. And on the off chance that I do respond to things, I absolutely lash out and just ruin everything for no reason. Why do I live? Why do I ask myself? Why must I get so obsessed with one person that I carve their name onto my body? Why can't I just be a normal teenager?. There are literally no pictures of me after july of last year, and it sucks. I just want to be normal. I want to like myself enough that I can take a photo, and I want to be able to relate to my friends and not just mindlessly go along with whatever they're saying. I want to wake up and feel anything other than complete and utter emptiness. I'm absolute poison, I destroy everything good in this world. I'm self-sabotaging, destructive, obsessive and I just don't care. I deserve to just die I guess, I have poison on me and it's not gonna be better.
I don't know what happiness is.
Life can't prove anything anyway, it's our dreams. We are seeing through the illusion of independent self-nature, is it the absence of essence? What is the reality of things by all means.?
My feeling of desolation hit me once a sec, scarcity of my isolation give me answers; then all society mechanism's controls arise in one view. Horrifying and grisly truth. To feel nothing hurts, it's changing you, it tooks everything, and leaves bullet hole in your heart. I could not describe the worst feeling but a know that its inside me, inside each one but its not revealed yet, it could be the smallest thing that push you over the edge, what do you do when there is nothing but pain left inside you? And what if everything we were looking for only existed in our dreams.? How can I explain something I don't even understand myself? I don't have any emotion, any feeling, any joy. I'm cold I suppose, I feel so empty and I'm not happy, cause happiness comes with wisdom. I'm nothing. I don't feel anything like I'm already dead. I am unable to describe what is the matter with, anxiety or hallowness, I don't really know. Illusion of my lucid dreams otherwise, it's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear. I'm not interesting, it's just my cavity talking shit when I'm alone.
Life is meaningless. I do not want to die, but I do not want to live either. I want to close my eyes, and let the emptiness take me, somewhere distant and away from it all.
I fathom into the chasm of my absence, reasoning my debt toward my filthiness; ignoring my cogent illness who's hazing this bivalence.
It's a soul sickness, an insatiable feeling of self-loathing and incompleteness. The feeling of longing to fade into nothingness, wishing to seize existing but rarely grasping on for the sake of those who love you.
Lying on the bed of being, to dream of being elsewhere. I look through the window but I see only black, it is my relief, it makes me think about life to death, I do not sleep more, eat no more, do not walk by reflection, but in truth I have not much to lose, everyone lies without complex, for fear of not being up, but I do not lie cause I'm dizzy. Always alone we become almost crazy and we see this slayer like jesus coming out of the bowels of hell, only with my cigarette the atmosphere changes thru time. But what time? Then there is this bullet in the belly, alone nothing gives more envy, patience flees drop by drop and the vase is well filled. We are magicians without doves, let out of our hat a knife and stab every time. There is a list of people we want to make disappear, the weight of differences that put us aside, deep inside us it's hard to tell us, we know how it will end. This effect! It hides behind the smoke, hideous remorse, dark thoughts, I do not fear death I have no heart, we are enough dupe to smoke, in any case we die. The misery does not justify the end, --I have several dreams but no goal-- that's what makes me always in the same place. My mind remains locked up, in a cage full of dirt, I only expect misery, and I only count my hours, my gazed fixed on this clock, makes me an artist stuck in his box.
It's scary to be ready to die at such a young age.
We wait for death without fear, why finish it early?
Success is often marginal, things could be hard for you, just keep pushing on, got some memories that you look upon, so as you never forget, to live your life with a mind set.