I want to sleep. For a very very long time. There are days where I wake up and I wish that I didn't. Because I spend every day, waiting to go back to bed. And I don't want to kill myself, and I don't want to die but sometimes I think, if this is all I'm doing with my life then what is the point? If I'm just wandering around meaninglessly, never actually finding joy in things, aren't I a bit of a waste of breath? Why do I, someone who has food, clothes and water, have the urge to just throw away my opportunities because I'm too sad. And sad isn't even the word for it. I'm not sad, I don't cry every night. I just feel sort of empty and I don't have motivation to do anything. But I don't want to put a knife to my wrist and I don't want to put those pills to my mouth because I'm waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Instead, I put scratches on my face and make my nose bleed so that I can feel alive again. Long story short - it doesn't work. I still want to just sleep.

1 year ago

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