my words are far from pretty tonight. i couldn’t care less about the staggered and sharp edges of the thoughts i throw together here. this darkness leaves no room for contemplation over diction. there is nothing i am attempting to express. writing is a lie. existing is a lie. how could i have every let myself be so fucking naive.
i cannot breathe. the knots in my chest are writhing. screaming. writhing. screaming. this is what happens when all the light leaves. this is what happens when i see the world finally unmasked, when i see this life for what it truly is. i have been blinded. and now i need to pound the truth into my fucking chest, carve it into my fucking flesh.
i cannot live here. that is the truth. i have nothing inside of me. i am not real. my body is not even mine. i live as an emptiness caught between my own ribs, engulfed in the tar that fills my mouth. engulfs me slowly. each breath shorter than the last. and i too live so far away. i can barely even feel what it is like to be alive. my body moves and i stay frozen. cold. i have no edges. i cannot even be sure that i am anything at all.
i cannot fill this page. i cannot even fill my own mouth. my throat burns. my eyes burn. i look at other souls writing other words and my heart fucking shatters. i have nothing to say. i have nothing to live. i cannot speak i cannot live i cannot speak i cannot live.
i have no place in this world. that is the truth. i am done pretending. pretending that i have anything to give. pretending that i have anything to become.
i am done. i cannot. i cannot.
i wish i had died so long ago.