i am a hypochondriac. ill at best, mad at worst.
occasionally my heart will leap from my rib cage and my body will burn up like a dying sun and all i know is this is the end.
i am wicked— i am sick.
this body of mine is not fit for the living. yet it is not fit for death either.
this paradoxical body. this never ending suffering.
i have tried to purge away the pain, away from the writhing and aching and yet there is always more.
i am afraid—so very frightened of what is next. when will my blackened heart finally take me? when will my bones give out? how will i throw myself to the ground in one final breath?
i used to find pleasure in pain and now i find it in numbness.
oh God, please... let me be numb.
