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I keep waking up in the wreckage of a life I swore I’d fix by now. The walls don’t echo anymore even the silence is tired of me. I used to dream in colour. Now everything feels dipped in the same dull grey, the shade of apologies I never stop repeating. Every regret has teeth. They drag across my thoughts, biting into the memories I pretend I’ve healed from. I taste blood and call it growth. People talk about hope like it’s a light switch, as if I can just flick it on and stop feeling the weight of every version of me I’ve already buried. Some nights, I rehearse my absence just to feel in control, imagining who would notice, who would lie about caring, who would sleep fine anyway. I don’t want grand endings. I just want the ache to stop pressing its thumbprint into my ribs. I want one hour where my thoughts don’t circle like vultures waiting for the final collapse. But I keep breathing, out of habit or spite, I’m not sure. Maybe survival is just a slow, uninterested miracle that I haven’t earned but keep receiving.
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Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 7:29 PM UTC
Disenchanted
I keep waking up in the wreckage of a life I swore I’d fix by now. The walls don’t echo anymore even the silence is tired of me. I used to dream in colour. Now everything feels dipped in the same dull grey, the shade of apologies I never stop repeating. Every regret has teeth. They drag across my thoughts, biting into the memories I pretend I’ve healed from. I taste blood and call it growth. People talk about hope like it’s a light switch, as if I can just flick it on and stop feeling the weight of every version of me I’ve already buried. Some nights, I rehearse my absence just to feel in control, imagining who would notice, who would lie about caring, who would sleep fine anyway. I don’t want grand endings. I just want the ache to stop pressing its thumbprint into my ribs. I want one hour where my thoughts don’t circle like vultures waiting for the final collapse. But I keep breathing, out of habit or spite, I’m not sure. Maybe survival is just a slow, uninterested miracle that I haven’t earned but keep receiving.
10:24am / please tell me i’m not the only one who feels this old inside
WiltedEverly
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Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 7:29 PM UTC
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