I hate my emotions.
It’s like I don’t have control
over what I feel.

Sometimes,
I’m just sad
for no reason.

Sometimes,
I’m just mad
for no reason.

I wish my emotions would stop
doing what they want.

Sometimes,
I feel things
and I can’t even explain what I feel,
and it makes me sick,
like a sinking feeling
in your gut.
It’s super weird.
I hate it a lot.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Sometimes,
I’m not even thinking about anything sad,
but
I feel so horrible.

I don’t know
if there’s a medicine for this.
I’ve already been declared not bipolar,
so I guess my emotions just hate me.

F*ck Inside Out.

It’s like everything that you felt joy for
Music
Games
Love
It’s all nothing.

That fiery passion you had for music and art
Gone,
Like it was never there.
And now you feel empty,
Hollow.

It’s like a gaping hole in your chest,
In your soul,
And there’s nothing that can fill it.

You don’t want to eat.
You don’t want to drink.
You don’t want to sleep.
You don’t want to stay awake.
You don’t want to live.
You don’t want to die.

You don’t want to want anything.
You don’t want to not want anything.
You don’t want.

What do I want?
I want to find a cure,
A potion,
A spell,
Anything,
So I can stop feeling so empty,
So hollow

I’m tired.
I want to sleep.
Sleeping is when I don’t feel bad.
I don’t even remember my dreams either.
I just know
that I feel a lot better sleeping
than how I do staying awake.
I can’t do any work.
I’m too tired to care.
I’m too tired to eat.
I’m too tired to walk.
I’m too tired to speak.
I’m too tired to do anything.
I don’t want to be in reality anymore.
Maybe I’ll just start sleeping,
on purpose,
even when I’m not tired,
just so I can be somewhere else,
somewhere that’s not here.
And I don’t have to worry about school,
about music,
about my future,
about my looks,
about my friends,
about anything.
I’ll just do
what I want,
and when I want to do it.
And what I want
is nothing,
except feeling good.

I want to be something
something important
someone important. I want to prove why I’m different,
why I’m here,
why I matter.
I’m so scared.
I don’t want everyone who believed in me,
wasted their time on me,
to be disappointed.
I’m scared of being nothing.
But wouldn’t life be so much better
if I could be something,
something for me or for them.
I don’t know anymore.
I never truly know anything anyway.
People say I’m talented,
that I can make it.
I’m not sure I believe them.
I’m not sure I believe anything.
Why should I?
I’d much rather play pretend,
pretend that I’m something,
that I’m on that stage.
But honestly,
maybe it’s better to be nothing—
makes dying a whole lot easier.