Consumeristmas

The holidays are obnoxious

Christmas is no longer festive, it's nothing but consumerism and I'm tired of it.

I'm tired of a lot of things, actually.

One of them is the embodiment of tiredness.

I'm tired of that ugly beast rearing it's head and tearing the flesh and bone from my happiness and shrinking me down into a disheveled shell.

I want late nights that aren't spent crying in my room wishing for an escape from an environment that screams as loud as my shadow in the sunlight.

It's in my blood to be combative yet defensive, but I never want to turn into either of my parents.

I don't want to become a secret smoker, with unchecked mental health problems and I don't want to develop any worse attachment and anger issues than I already have.

I've been genetically predetermined to fail, not beat the odds, to rot in my decaying corpse of mental stability and scalp myself trying to stay warm.

Every blink seems as though it shortens my life, and one day, I'll blink for the last time and then it'll never happen again.

Poetically speaking I'm a failure too, my English could be better, and when speaking I cannot string coherent sentences together using the right words to elaborate what the jumble of my brain wants to scream to anyone who'll listen.

Eating the cyanide from apple seeds and watching my gums bleed from the strange sharpness of the apple is stupid, because it's a micro dose of everything.

Will I be remembered in a positive light when I've graced the world with my absence? I really hope so.

If I move from my bed I'll need to stitch myself back together, but, I can't keep myself sane if I stare at the ceiling and it blinks back.

People seem to do better without me in their lives, so maybe I should end their suffering.

Published by Zagreus

Consumeristmas

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