Poetic bullshit

Disassociation sucks, but not as much.

It's hard to think. Words are meaningless and the letters are just shapes and scribbes. It's impossible to read. Words are tired and heavy, and they stay quiet inside of the throat and keep the mouth closed. It's almost comfortable, but it's impossible to do much. The whole body locks up and just wants to stay right where it is, then it forgets that it can even move anymore. Only the tears are alive and angry, but even then, they rarely escape- only in the brief moments when the body remembers where it is for a second, they pour down the cheeks, desperate for escape. The whole world is grey and desolate, thoughts are empty colors, and nothing is real.

It would be so easy to die, and the body wouldn't even know what happened. If only it could move- but it's like trying to touch a cloud. It's not solid.

"I want to die." They say, knowing full well just how selfish the desire is. "I just want to finally die."

Sometimes, the world is beautiful and has color, and words race around and everything is moving. The body doesn't remember when that happened, how that happened. It only knows it has to be true, because the sky didn't always seem so bright and so disgusting. It can hardly feel anything, despite this. It just feels so numb. It wants to stop exsisting, to stop moving, to stop everything.

"I don't want to do this," They continue, tears rolling down their face.

They're not quite here, but they can still feel the tightness in their throat and the pain in their chest. It's the only thing keeping them real and grounded. Pain.

"I don't want to live anymore. It's too hard."

They haven't tried- but that has to be a lie. They remember trying, they remember struggling, and falling, and sitting on the floor for an hour, just staring at nothing and thinking nothing and wishing it was forever.

"I don't want to try anymore. I hate this."

They want to be nice and kind and bursting with energy, they want to do a million things and they want to live. But they're just so tired of living already, they just want to lie down and never wake up again.

"Can't i just stop, forever?"

They think about the next day, and they want to die. They can't think about the day after that. They wish that day would never come. They want to curl up and die, they want to wither and waste away. They don't want their family to be unhappy.

"I..."

They want an excuse. They want any excuse. They love their family, and they just want an excuse to leave them behind without making them sad. There is no excuse.

"I just want to die."

They try not to think about it. Of course they don't want to die, they just want to have it end. They want it to stop. Dying is the only way to make that happen. The knives are so appealing. They've had a hard time trying not to stab themself. The knives are sharp, but there would be so much blood. They would scare everybody like that. If they didn't die fast enough, someone would find them and take them to the hospital, and they would feel so guilty. They already feel so guilty. Maybe that's why so many people take pills. Maybe that's why they...

"I wish i could feel something."

What a bunch of poetic bullshit.