Nobody is who I've become, or maybe it's just who I am. I can't recollect these 17 years I've spent in this world. Sometimes, I think that it's but a dream, or a nightmare... Neverending. I never thought Hell as such a bad place, because the physical torture is something that you could adapt to... The emotional torture experienced as a mortal, I personally believe is far worse. You can never adjust, you can never prepare yourself, and everytime a pain happens it hurts even worse than the last and lingers on further pass the point that you ever thought it would go. I'd rip out my organs if I knew I'd live. Depression's like Hell inside your body and mind... A fire of pure irritation crawling beneath your skin.
____________________________________________________________________
FEEL WHAT'S REAL
____________________________________________________________________
FEEL WHAT'S REAL
We were only ships, floating and fighting against the waves and tides of the sea; which was waiting to swallow us whole... The only end for all is to drown in the abyssis.
_________________________________________________________
Suicide was never something I could put into action. It's always a thought. Might be my fear of death that made this so, but the idea still remains. I dream up ways of dying and it being this final chance to have happiness. But, just the same I'm dreading the horror in my head of dying and leaving nothing as noone; living a wasted life unfulfilled of working love, achieved aspirastions, and lived happiness. So, in order to indulge and protect both thoughts, I conclude that I am to drink, do drugs, and smoke cigarettes like a chimney, because really it's the slowest most oblivious way to kill yourself ever... Live now and do all that you dream, to die young before you lose everything. Carpe Diem; as the cliche standard.
_________________________________________________________
Suicide was never something I could put into action. It's always a thought. Might be my fear of death that made this so, but the idea still remains. I dream up ways of dying and it being this final chance to have happiness. But, just the same I'm dreading the horror in my head of dying and leaving nothing as noone; living a wasted life unfulfilled of working love, achieved aspirastions, and lived happiness. So, in order to indulge and protect both thoughts, I conclude that I am to drink, do drugs, and smoke cigarettes like a chimney, because really it's the slowest most oblivious way to kill yourself ever... Live now and do all that you dream, to die young before you lose everything. Carpe Diem; as the cliche standard.
No comments:
Post a Comment