Do you ever just feel like a depressed pile of **** but you can't tell anyone because you have to maintain your image but you'd really be okay with just dying because then you wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore including both what you feel like **** about and also your image
The longing for things that will never be The knowledge that we'll be taken before we're done Disappointment in ourselves Resignation to sadness Belief in pointlessness The lack of energy to be angry at things that are wrong Inability and/or unwillingness to change
Writing down depressing things and never turning them into a cohesive piece
He wrapped his arms around the cat sitting in his lap Existential anxiety had become an underlying constant, But his love for the creature provided momentary connection; A temporary check against the loneliness
The same feeling, the state of being, will return But, brushing it aside for a moment, He had a somber taste of what it might be like if the world wasn't broken
I stare at her picture On a backlit screen I look for something there Something so deep it could quench But I don't know **** about her And, thankfully, She doesn't know **** about me
Alexa, turn off the light Alexa, it's cold in here Alexa, tell me a story Alexa, sing me a lullaby Alexa, I miss my girl Alexa, pull up my favorite **** Alexa, are you real? Alexa, I'm bored Alexa, stop I'm sad
I've walked away from feeling certain feelings for a long time Allowing myself to emotionally need anyone There's a good chance I'll be alone when I die if I continue to let other desires get in the way of truly loving someone