So tired...
Waiting.
Restless.
The End
As the day goes by, so does my life.
As optomism is transformed, hope dies in metamorphosis.
So tired...
The factors of depression slowly, yet efficicientlly, growing in my eyes.
No one sees the difference.
No one has noticed one, fucking change, in which consumes my Godforsaken mind.
Somebody just put an end to my murdering misery!
Somebody listen to my cries of help.
FUCK YOU!
I can't tell what I want most: to die myself or kill of this mad world... Or both.
No.
I can't wake up...
Restless
