(no subject)
i am empty. sometimes i catch myself thinking ahead. and then i stop myself. it isnt real and it never will be. hope does not exist here. my mind is a desolate place. i wander through it. like a desert there is sometimes a mirage. is it a friend? is it health? is it home? is it hope? is it a future? no. i wander closer and it disappears. a crushing reminder of what my life will never be. full. my mind is a dark place. a place that light cannot seem to penetrate. i dont remember who predicted it or exactly when, but i am not meant to live past 30. it doesnt scare me. when i think about it, it gives me a sense of peace. the one thing to look forward to. the end. its always the best part. and when i die, no one will remember me. and i know it. and it is the one thing that bothers me. at the same time it is the reason i want so badly to go. i want to mean something to people. but i know i never will. how could i when im so uncomfortable in my own skin? in so many ways im uncomfortable. i dont like to be naked. not even when im alone. i wouldnt fuck me. i dont even know if i would flirt with me. so i dont blame the people who pass me up for something better.
i try to reach out sometimes to talk about the torture i am going through. the rare times they respond... i choke up and cannot express it. i doubt i ever will be able to. and i still sit and wonder if i care. i dont care about myself. i care about not being locked away. theyll probably throw out the key if they have to do it again.
i try to reach out sometimes to talk about the torture i am going through. the rare times they respond... i choke up and cannot express it. i doubt i ever will be able to. and i still sit and wonder if i care. i dont care about myself. i care about not being locked away. theyll probably throw out the key if they have to do it again.