i'm so tired.
my soul is hungover and what's left is smoldering.
Sometimes i like to pretend i'm Fox Mulder
because this life feels like an X-File:
out of this world and ignored.
the truth may be out there and i may or may not believe,
but at least i have my very own Scully to keep me real
before i fade away into someone else again.
sigh, what is life?
is this life?
how can i have a life
if death calls me so?
what if i died again today or tomorrow,
would i truly rest or would i just come back again
as someone new and equally depressed?
who cares, really?
i'm about to stop caring and live life like i'm dead anyways,
maybe then i can finally feel alive.