It's the snowball theory
Except it's not a snowball, it's me,
and I got frost bites all over my heart and brain,
My emotions are piling up, just like the books on my shelf,
No tears, no screams, slowly building up to the avalanche.
I lie to myself that I'm healing, because denial is easier than facing the fact that my search for happiness is an end road.
Some people are born to live sad, and I'm their queen.
I manage my kingdom with a national anthem that includes "It'll get better" and "You will be okay"
but I know **** well it won't, we all do,
we're infected with this disease, eating us inside out
killing us slowly, never going away,
and we're constantly looking for an escape,
but what happens when the pills don't work anymore?
when the drugs, the ***, the recklessness does not give you a thrill anymore?
when everything turns numb.
You start thinking of the only resort, the one that has always been in the back of your mind
high buildings, sharp objects, ropes, and the deep cold end of the ocean
darkness, silence, isolation.
the feeling of all your worries floating above you, flirting with the moon,
while your body is rested underneath, your soul escapes,
free of your body, your now bloodless heart, and your soul
it's now with the angels, laughing with the stars, looking down...
is this what comes after? no one knows, but I take comfort in thinking there must be something better for people like us, people who live in constant agony, fighting battles with themselves, making amends with their demons,
because no matter how much I try to win, it's always a losing game.
maybe it's me, maybe I'm looking through a black veil.
sometimes I think, why can't I be like other people?
who fight normal battles, seeing the world in colours,
while the only color I see, people don't,
the color of my world, is misery.