19–07–17

i find myself randomly wondering what would happen if i were to kill myself at any given time. i’m not sure what sparks these scenarios in my head. one moment i was as relaxed as i had been for a long time, the next… well, that. would that be the most selfish decision i’ve made yet? am i unwilling or simply unable to go through a day without this sort of scenario running through my head? i’ve become so numb that i can barely feel any part of my body anymore. like i’ve inhaled this weird drug that’s taking forever to finish me off. i don’t know if this is because of the sheer intensity of these thoughts or because i can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep anymore. or maybe the latter is a result of the former. i don’t know the difference between the cause and the effect anymore. everything is a blur. a lot of the time it doesn’t even feel like i’m walking. it’s almost as if i’m already a spirit, wandering the physical world. the difference being that i have nowhere to retreat to besides my bed. how long can i keep coming up with reasons for staying in bed so much before people start asking invasive questions? i thought i’d built an impenetrable barrier. maybe i have. maybe the only weakness here is my own paranoia. this persistent feeling that i’m ready to make a dangerous life-changing (ending) decision at any given moment. i’ve spent a lot of time trying to do nothing but appearing normal. i suppose from the outside it might seem like nothing, but to me that has become the hardest job of all. unfortunately, this shell is cracking. unfortunately, at this point it feels like i’ve been reduced to nothing but words. i’m unable to express emotion anymore, whether it’s the rare feeling of euphoria, or the intense sadness that has become a running theme in my life. i say intense sadness but it’s not even that anymore. it’s more like pure disinterest. i see the glass as half-full and it doesn’t frustrate me. i just live knowing that i have a glass with a mediocre portion of whatever is supposed to be in it. i’ve become reliant on people just knowing what mood i’m in. when they don’t, everything becomes uncomfortable. mainly because everything that isn’t sitting in silence becomes suffocating. i can’t move, i can’t talk, i can’t breathe, i can’t think. for now, i’m just existing. it’s a painful experience, but i’m stuck.

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