I’ve tried. For years. I just wanted to get better - to be better.
Not gonna happen. Hitting 30 this year and the weight only grows with no relief in sight.
Sometimes, broken pieces can’t be put back together - erosion, corrosion, or simple apathy - call it what you will.
I killed off my passion. Nothing of this world - or any world - fills me with wonder. Theres only one thing I see anymore... the monster in the mirror.
A sick human being stuck on this doomed planet with all of the other sick human beings.
Survival is exhausting... or maybe it’s the reaction to exhaustion?
Regardless, the day will come when I’m too tired to continue.
Hopefully my choice of exiting this world will be as quick and painless as possible... but setting myself on fire sounds appealing. Even if I survive, at least the outside will finally match what’s within.
Maybe I’ll end up finding that passion in the death that I seek - it is, after all, the only thing I look forward to in my waking moments.
Thankfully, sleep is its own solace.
Some people don’t get a happy ending.
Good luck to the rest of you.