At times like this, I can guarantee that having depression is not exactly a cool thing.
The relatable feelings;
In the dim light, nothing safe is worth to tolerate.
You are helplessly drowning away by the blue but it doesn’t matter — at least, not anymore.
You are reading your notes— unfortunately — those are just empty.
Lifeless.
Emptiness.
Desperation.
Harm.
Constantly want to scream but you have no idea how.
Left with nothing but the longing to end yourself.
At the end of day, you promise yourself, if there are no longer distractions from outside yourself on that day, you’d willingly meet your grave.
The questions remain;
Life is supposed to be better than these,
right?
I know God loves me the most,
shouldn’t that be the answer why I should be up there?
Then, your favorite crime would be;
The heaven feeling covered up in hell is when you decided to charmed yourself by putting the cutter through your veins,
The innocence feeling you can’t get rid from having the breakdown.
The long list of how you are supposed to be.
The — perhaps, last — long notes to everyone.
If you have a time machine, you’d be happy turn forward in time and you’d stop at the time when you’re not alive,
because you know you’d be happier when you’re no longer here.
That’s why, for me, staying alive is already hard enough.
It is much lighter to end yourself than to be alive.
Trust me, I tried everything to keep the sanity that left in my head.
I tried. I tried. I really tried.
The price is way too high.
Fuck this madness circus that no one asked for.
I promise you if I could feel any hope,
I would’ve thrown away this part.
