untitled
My life feels bland and empty. The life I lived was colorful and full of hope and glamour.
I just feel sad and destitute. My food is tasteless and my nights are sleepless. I feel dehydrated constantly and lethargic in every sense of the word. I feel too tired to chew food.
I dream of strange things and my dreams feel realer than my life. I wake up and expect for the world around me to be defined by what I felt in my dream, but my reality slowly unfolds around me again as I look around and I realize I'm right back where I started. I can't escape, as much as I try.
I'm offered drugs as support or comfort but hardly any words to heal my hurting wounds.
I've fallen into old habits, because, well, don't we all sometimes?
I'm afraid of my life and circumstances. I'm afraid because I feel I'll falter and I'm bad at keeping my balance when I don't have someone to steady my wavering body. I might just fall over if a strong enough gust of wind blows through.
This isn't for you; in fact, I don't care whether or not you read this. But I know you will.