03/
I feel, like I'm slowly dissipating. I don't know what word can convey what I mean exactly but it feels like something is coming to an end.
Like I'm coming to an end.
I've stopped talking to everyone. My friends, my followers, myself. I've just lost the will to interact or exist in the same space where others continue to exist, whether peacefully or not.
I've sought silence and peace all my life but it's slowly dawning on me that I may never find it and now I'm just tired of it all. I've lost all hope and will to try.
I don't want to be happy. I don't want to be sad. I don't actively want anything anymore. Not food, not water, not chocolate, not love, not writing. Nothing.
And all my energies and thoughts have now aligned themselves into this destructive cycle of wanting and actively wanting that I am not here any second longer.
It's all I think about when I wake up. It's all I think about before falling asleep. It's all I dream about in my sleep. It's all I've come to want with all of my being.
And the more I want this thing—To stop being. The more I hate myself for wanting it and the more I hate myself for being unable to stop wanting it.
I don't even actually want to stop. I just can't help this guilt that comes with it. This guilt that tells me I should still be fighting. That I shouldn't have lost the will to fight so fast. That my stubborn and persevering nature should still be alive and ablaze and I should want to live even harder than I've ever wanted.
But I've lost this battle.
My triumph had never been certain. And I do not have the strength to keep wanting more out of life.
Life has said to me several times that it was not made for, nor because of me and my happiness is of the least importance to it.
Life tells me in whispers night after night that nothing but pain awaits every page I turn in this seemingly blank and endless book of mine, and no new beginnings await me in the next chapters I used to look forward to so eagerly.
Life is not for me. At least not this life.
And so I declare my tiredness. From the deepest trenches of my heart, I proclaim that I have tried and I have fought but I have lost. And I have lost all the will and strength I thought I had. And I can not go on this way.
It hurts too much.
YOU ARE READING
Inner
Non-FictionWe're all running. We've always been running and still, we continue to run. From things our lips have not the ability of describing. From demons even hell couldn't boast of holding. Our demons, they hold us captive. Night and day. Seen by none other...
