i think i want to stop killing myself. stop thinking this is an okay way to live. you know, i’ve accepted the growls and hatred and dark cloud sky dumped into my brain each day, i’ve accepted it as life. the storm blanket is comfort now, safety instead of vulnerability. maybe it’s easier to live without trying so hard. i want to realize it’s been four ******* years. sometimes i pretend to wonder why i’m not okay. my fingers type out words about me being confused, why is everyone else okay and i’m just always not. as if i don’t know what i put my own body through each day. is this what makes us the most advanced species there is? the self doubt, the ability to harm ourselves against all evolutionary instinct, the need to hate ourselves? is that really what makes us special?