Everything I know I have assumed.
A sense of shame and humility, bewilderment. I don’t know where to start.
Everything is a gift! In some capacity or another - it wasn’t ours to begin with.
Is it just my nature? Is that what I owe to history? Assumption?
I don’t want to participate if it has to be this is how we “behave”.
Yet my pain is so intense when I have to go without these addictions I’ve adapted myself to be born into.
I know no other way. Every path has led me back to this conclusion. I fight and lose my fury. I run but I can’t escape. I eat but am never satiated. My CALM is a sense of unrest.
But I keep you, and I feel you will always be with me.
Writing my suicide note with my one unconscious hand and shooting me with the other.
A sicko ****** fantasy. I’m sure you could bet on it. Just put it on my tab!
Started off as a revelation about how everything that we use is something that someone else made/invented before you were ever even a thought but it turned into a self reflection about suicidal depression.