The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
I've felt like this for a good 6 years now. On and off. They say focus on the months that are good. But every time I feel good the bad comes up and rises again. I can laugh and make jokes and smile during the day, but at night I forget how to feel.
Should I let the thoughts that linger every night turn into sin?
Will I seize the day? Or will the day seize me, from behind, pulling my hair, without a safe word?
Is it okay to just wander through life without having a purpose? Only finding things kind of interesting until you die?
I'm exhausted. I've been holding in all of these emotions and pretending to be happy for 2 months now. Since I got discharged from the psych ward. This may not seem like a long time, but when you've been masking how you feel this whole time; it feels like a whole lifetime. I'll be convincing myself to be doing good for a little while, I'll even start to believe it. I'll talk more, laugh more, sleep and eat. But then something happens: like a switch turning off. And all I am left with is the darkness of my mind.
Oh well, nobody cares unless you're beautiful or dead.
I hate this feeling: like I'm here, but I'm not. Like they care, but they don't. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here.
I'm destroying myself but I'm too tired to care.
