Everything is still,
silent—
I can hear my own thoughts
on repeat.
I hate, I hate…
I don’t know what.
It’s like autumn inside me,
leaves falling in slow motion,
color fading quietly.
I wish I was normal,
but I’m only mid—
halfway to something
I can’t name.
I do what I want,
yet nothing at all.
A pretentious shell,
with no real want,
no spark,
no interest.
Just echoes
in a quiet room.
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC
Everything is still,
silent—
I can hear my own thoughts
on repeat.
I hate, I hate…
I don’t know what.
It’s like autumn inside me,
leaves falling in slow motion,
color fading quietly.
I wish I was normal,
but I’m only mid—
halfway to something
I can’t name.
I do what I want,
yet nothing at all.
A pretentious shell,
with no real want,
no spark,
no interest.
Just echoes
in a quiet room.
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