I've realized that I rely on "things"
such as pills,
to get me through the daze.
Weather it's the clouds in my lungs,
or the syrup that I swallow,
or even latest Salvatore novel,
I've just gotta have that "thing" to distract me from here.
Because I find this reality too much to bear.
Living vice-to-vice, couting down the years.
I just want everyone to be happy.

Self therapy.
**** rips in my kitchen.
Talking to oneself can be so productive.
Pacing back and forth with constant muttering.
I just want everyone to be happy.

It was a day like today when
I found myself nearly paralyzed
unable to move myself from my bed.
This existential depression is crippling.
Living like the dead.

I need a purpose, I need a reason
to continue down this path called life
but with out turning to hedonism.

But I have no real passions
I have no real hobbies.
I'm just sitting around waiting
stuck in purgatory.

If you've read my rants before you'll know of my nihilism.
And I've struggled to find the will to live for quite some time now.
I'm seeing several psychs and on a multitude of meds
that I will gladly abuse to try to transcend
to something greater.
Something more.
But this "instant-gratification" lifestyle can't go on forever.

Because money runs thin
and I hate running.
My lungs are filling up
and its with nothing healthy.
This low self-esteem feels like drowning.
Living like a problem not worth solving.
Each day passes, each the same.
Moving forward toward monotony.

If I am to go before you think I should,
bury me deep encased in wood.
If I am to pass on in my early years,
please don't cry for me, shed no tears.
Because it doesn't matter when,
it doesn't matter how,
it was bound to happen eventually.
My time just happens to be now.