kids like us will be alone forever.
i am simply stupefied with my vagrant impulses, and aimless persona in life. i am contorting myself into everything i've ever hated, and i try to avoid my inevitable outcome but it's hopeless. i am internally decaying, yet my exterior shows not even a subtle rust. it's a lovely deception, and i am grateful to savor every last bit.
every passion, desire, and dream is inexplicably dead as of now. lifeless smiles encompass my daily rountine of nothingness, and the isolation is becoming intolerable. my anxiety is raging, and every word i type or utter is coming out more wrongly stated, and mistaken than ever. i falter upon each blissful world. i'll simply dwell here, in an idle state and dream of nothing; nothing at all.
i can't write anymore. my mind is too dull, mundane, and captured in the redundance of melancholia. for once i wish i could write with flair, happiness, and a sense of fucking reality and life. but apparently, the only life i do posess are the repeated scenes, re-runs, and apathy that now takes residence within my disarrayed mind.
every passion, desire, and dream is inexplicably dead as of now. lifeless smiles encompass my daily rountine of nothingness, and the isolation is becoming intolerable. my anxiety is raging, and every word i type or utter is coming out more wrongly stated, and mistaken than ever. i falter upon each blissful world. i'll simply dwell here, in an idle state and dream of nothing; nothing at all.
i can't write anymore. my mind is too dull, mundane, and captured in the redundance of melancholia. for once i wish i could write with flair, happiness, and a sense of fucking reality and life. but apparently, the only life i do posess are the repeated scenes, re-runs, and apathy that now takes residence within my disarrayed mind.