(no subject)
Isn't it amazing how I've never known anything but depression, always just blackness? I always imagine holding up a grain of sand, or a speck of dust, to symbolise the insignificance of my life, then realise, no, it's less than that, it's nothing, worth less than a strand of dust mite poop. Why should I need to quantify if anyway? I know how little worth, how pointless still, but that is. Funny. Funny how I dream big things and find comfort in crushing them, doomed always by nature. As if it's really all I know. But it is all I know.