what’s there even left to say. every step i take is a trap. the world doesn’t shine like it should. no sparkle, no whimsy, no pretty things i can distract myself with to convince myself it’s worth it to be here. just shapes and hard surfaces and a dull, shifting ache.

nothing’s happened recently. maybe it has, i don’t know. i don’t care. i don’t pay attention to change like i used to. the earth turns fast and won’t take me with it. i’m quiet and numb, i do what i’m told, i trudge through this thickness that shields me from everything. i told my mother i wasn’t happy and she told me i didn’t have a choice. life is meant to be hard. don’t be a failure like your father.

i’m lifting the veil, i’m facing the mirror. i’m finally letting go of my delusion. what does it matter. none of this is worth noticing. plaster your thoughts on a screen for nobody to see. you used to care. you used to have reasons, you used to know what it meant to find purpose. now your eyes are sinking to the back of your skull and nothing you do will fix the things you’ve done.

i don’t bother looking at the sky anymore. i haven’t seen a sunset in so long. my skin itches. i should wash my bedsheets. my arms are bleeding, my hands are burning. one day it won’t be enough.

i did groceries for some reason. it’s all gonna rot. i can’t let myself eat until i know there’s any point in it. i need something, some push, some proof i deserve to survive. i’ve been redrafting letters in my head, listing the people i’ll need to write to when i finally decide to clean up this mess. i don’t know if i can bring myself to write them out. none of these people deserve a page of words in place of all the things i’ll never be able to give them. i’ll make them all hate me. then it won’t matter that i’m leaving.

the sun doesn’t work anymore. whatever. i’m already gone.