But what about when there's nothing left? What about when I'm missing lecs and not working on assignments to do art, the 'fun stuff', to take the edge off, but the edge isn't going away? Hours spent thinking 'hah, it's like I'm doing art therapy right now' and while my brain does turn off to focus on the scribbling of the pens and the scratch of the markers, what about the pit of dread that doesn't go away. that just whispers that I'm not enjoying it. it's not fun. it should be, but it's not. nothing is.
ill do what i want, I'm good at that. but what about when there's nothing to want to do anymore. what about when the only thing left keeping me going is the promise of keeping up appearances, to stop people from worrying, from noticing. although i'm failing at that, too.
what do i even do. I don't even want to ctb right now. too much fucking work. i just want nothing. i want time to stop and to fast forward. i want to get past this but i dont want to face the music. relating to people is nice but it's always just a millimetre off kilter. tiptoe around the real reason. tiptoe around suicide, killing yourself, removing yourself from the equation, whatever taboo way you want to put it. unless it's joke joke jokes, then it's fine. but i'll never be able to show you how i feel about it because i understand what condemnation looks like. i dont want your concern, your fucking pity. i dont want the whispers and the secret gatherings, the invisible intervention. i dont want the threat, the hospitalization, the social suicide, the blame, anything and everything. i refuse.
ill do what i want, I'm good at that. but what about when there's nothing to want to do anymore. what about when the only thing left keeping me going is the promise of keeping up appearances, to stop people from worrying, from noticing. although i'm failing at that, too.
what do i even do. I don't even want to ctb right now. too much fucking work. i just want nothing. i want time to stop and to fast forward. i want to get past this but i dont want to face the music. relating to people is nice but it's always just a millimetre off kilter. tiptoe around the real reason. tiptoe around suicide, killing yourself, removing yourself from the equation, whatever taboo way you want to put it. unless it's joke joke jokes, then it's fine. but i'll never be able to show you how i feel about it because i understand what condemnation looks like. i dont want your concern, your fucking pity. i dont want the whispers and the secret gatherings, the invisible intervention. i dont want the threat, the hospitalization, the social suicide, the blame, anything and everything. i refuse.
