obliviousatbest
atrophy
- Nov 10, 2021
- 67
The last month has been wasted in melancholy, like all the others. Weary over letting all the hopeful parts of me disappear, even though they were truly already long departed. Watching myself slowly giving in again and erase the point of surviving for the last eight years. How to fill the days and make them pass, waiting as if for some change to occur but without any energy to change, with only the energy to hurt myself. I'm so away, wrapped in all this sadness, making myself worse so I can dissolve away, carefree and surrounded by all my ruins. I could continue the illusion of progress but I can't fathom ever knowing the energy to do anything but decay. Bringing myself to do anything I used to enjoy is so saddening and soaked with impassable detachment. Why is my being so compelled towards nothingness. The permeating smell of blood is staining me again.