Glass ticking like cold plastic
My fingers thrum hopelessly in the hopes of drumming up a solution to a problem with an issue of loss.
This dilemma has found me at the end of my rope and I fear the knots in my stomach are only getting tighter as I squeeze you closer to me now.
Why can't I help me?
I won't let you do it for me.
But must I force feed you the truth?
I'm not hungry for this day any more. Fighting this sickness, I choke back another spoonful of medicine...
--And what am I supposed to do now then?!
Frustration consumes me.
I am bile. The emptiness inside, that fills me with rot.
I'm hollow!!
Somebody save me from myself! I want to self-destruct and not be okay anymore.
I want to fly a Subaru into the sun on fire.
*I'm just so ******
Just leave me behind and maybe I can decompose into something useful and that actually wants to be here and maybe after that I can finally float away from here...
Wouldn't that be okay?
Why should I have to stay.
I never belonged here any way.