I can't write properly anymore. Not with a pen or a keyboard. I can't throw my emotions on a page because I don't know how I feel. Everything I write feels terrible. As though I want it one way but write it another. Like I can't even express my mind because the details drive me crazy. How something is spelt down to if what I'm even thinking is right. One after two after three. Thought after thought after thought. My eyes get droopy by midnight but my mind is still a car radio on full blast. Sometimes my eyes stay open but my mind is fucking exhausted. I can't pull a poem out of my ass and that picture perfect look of overwhelmingly annoying positivity looks bad on me. Nothing fits together anymore but at the same time that fit fits what I think because I think they fit. They both say the same thing. At the same time they say nothing. I say nothing. This says nothing!
The loneliness. The fear of showing it. The pain. What for? Nothing. I show nothing, you show nothing, we all show nothing in hopes that if we ignore it long enough we'll be okay again. If we don't ignore it we let it out and where does that leave us? In the back seat of a car watching the sun set again knowing that even when we say it out loud no one cares enough to help. No more positivity. No more endings. It ends when we die and we haven't died yet. There are no solutions. There is no hope. No more cycles, no more relapses, no more ups and downs. Cause it doesn't mean anything. It's just the neverending life we've been given. Time is irrelevant. Our souls are still here. There are no tips, tricks, or themes. Just live.
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The Adventures of a Mentally Unstable Piece of Trash
RandomI'm really f**ked up, so here's something to shed light on it however you see fit.
