Tw idfk I'm in a depressive episode. Figure out what I'm gonna say yourself.
Day like every other. I don't feel happiness. I'm tired. At school Purple was already in class so I left my things and went to th sea side. I'm always early. So I'll have to stay looking at the sea until 5 mins before class. One hour and 15 mins looking at the sea.
I didn't cry. Not yet at least. I just stayed there. Thinking ab nothing.
Five minutes to class, I come back. Ppl are talking. Prof isn't there yet. Berry is too near being in front of me. I don't wanna see him. I don't wanna see him this close. I don't wanna see how much hes changing. I don't wanna see his stupid punchable face and his ugly mustache. I don't wanna be fucking reminded of what I can't fucking have.
And unlike the fox with the grapes too high to reach, this is not just fruit, this is me and my body and my peace with myself. And it's unreachable.
Class ends.i haven't eaten all day. I'm not eating a lot this week. I'm hiding myself behind the curious feeling hunger brings. I don't do anything all day. I don't need a lot of food anyway. And it's wasted on me.
Class ends. I drop my things in the other one. I get to the sea.
Today the waves are a bit calmer. The wind is still cold but less strong. It's sunset time. Looks pretty today. I don't cry yet. While walking to the sea I see Dragon in the parking lot waiting for her bf to pick her up. I have the hood of my jacket on. I don't look at her. I don't say hi to her.
I stare more at the rocks being splashed by the water. I don't cry yet.
The second class feels so slow. I just wanna go home.
I get to the bus stop. I cry. I hate being this way. But I can't change it. It hurts. There's a constant pain in my chest and I'm tired of talking ab it. But I need to. To document this.
I'm in a depressive episode. Idk if it's worse than other times. It feels that way. But what the fuck do I know.
How do I wait for everything to get better when I know it won't happen. How do I wait for the happy ever after if it's not part of the book. I wanna stop feeling, I wanna stop being, I want for the book to end abruptly like a unfinished novel when a writer dies.
I'm the writer and there's nothing I can think of.
How do I wait for a saviour when I'm utterly alone.
How do I pray for an angel when even hell has abandoned me.
Nobody likes you, everyone has left you, they're all out without you having fun.
Letterbomb.
So I just wait. Under pressure. Cracks forming. Wait. For something that will never come. Until I'll break.
Van Gogh thought dying drowning is a nice peaceful death.
I already feel like drowning. I'm scared of the sea. Drowning is accessible but off the table for a coward like me.
A ghost writing from its grave. Signing off.
Comments
Displaying 0 of 0 comments ( View all | Add Comment )