The night felt endless, like a mirror reflecting all the things I wish I could change about myself.
I watched the rain fall and wondered if it envied the ground for having something to hold it.
The tireless feeling drowns me, but not enough to suffocate me, just enough so that I choke on the water I inhale when I come up for air.
I sat on the bus, alone with my thoughts but not confiding in them, an unusual formality.
I begin to wonder if I'm truly destined for a life of silent disatisfaction.
I am consumed by all that I lack and I have lost sight of the surface.
The burning desire to just runaway to a place where I am simply just a being claws at the edges of my heart.
My soul has grown tired if this endless battle in which peace is a mere concept observed but not experienced.
"I want to die but I don't want to kill myself"
I hate myself and I hate that I will never be better