I sit in my room and think about things a lot. I’ve done it since I was a kid. It’s been a fascination of mine from birth, to just stare out a window and analyze myself, my friends, my family, and the world. I would dream of kingdoms in far away lands, of creatures that didn’t exist. I would create beautiful pictures of what god was in my head. But that began to change as I got older.
I went from daydreaming of kingdoms to having nightmares filled with sadness. My ideologies that were so vibrant and bright turn dull and colorless. I watched my own joy slip away, and I fell in love with that.
As I sat in my room more and more, I fell in love with suffering. With the chaos of the calm, but hideous night. I could feel snakes hiss at my heels. I wouldn’t run away,though. It was too comfortable.
I sit in my and think about everything, but now it is filled with dread. My soul has absorbed this hovering cloud filled with tears the color of tar. I hate myself.
I sit in my room and think about how I’m better off dead. I dream of the day I die. Every night I look and see the choices I have to destroy every living part of me. “Such a simple and pure way to escape such a complex and broken world”, I tell myself.
I sit in my room and I look at the bottle sitting on my nightstand. I contemplate how worthless I am that I have to take medication to live. I have to put chemicals in my body so I want to live. If my brain wants me gone so desperately, why do I deny it’s greatest desire?
I sit in my room. Maybe I should walk out.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC
I sit in my room and think about things a lot. I’ve done it since I was a kid. It’s been a fascination of mine from birth, to just stare out a window and analyze myself, my friends, my family, and the world. I would dream of kingdoms in far away lands, of creatures that didn’t exist. I would create beautiful pictures of what god was in my head. But that began to change as I got older.
I went from daydreaming of kingdoms to having nightmares filled with sadness. My ideologies that were so vibrant and bright turn dull and colorless. I watched my own joy slip away, and I fell in love with that.
As I sat in my room more and more, I fell in love with suffering. With the chaos of the calm, but hideous night. I could feel snakes hiss at my heels. I wouldn’t run away,though. It was too comfortable.
I sit in my and think about everything, but now it is filled with dread. My soul has absorbed this hovering cloud filled with tears the color of tar. I hate myself.
I sit in my room and think about how I’m better off dead. I dream of the day I die. Every night I look and see the choices I have to destroy every living part of me. “Such a simple and pure way to escape such a complex and broken world”, I tell myself.
I sit in my room and I look at the bottle sitting on my nightstand. I contemplate how worthless I am that I have to take medication to live. I have to put chemicals in my body so I want to live. If my brain wants me gone so desperately, why do I deny it’s greatest desire?
I sit in my room. Maybe I should walk out.