Just yesterday I discovered that I don’t want to live. Not with myself, not from my perspective, not my own life. I feel like I’m not a worth subject, that I’m not capable of an interesting life. At least, not like people around me.
That’s why I run, I dream, I hide, I imagine, I do not live. Now I ask, what’s the opposite word for ‘living’? Because ‘death’ doesn’t sound like the word I’m looking for. I’m searching a word that can actually explain properly what I am living – oh, how ironic.
Guess I am still breathing, am I not?
How can I ever forgi-, no, I mean, how can I accept myself?
‘They’ll never get you, people will never understand.’
‘This might be the time to break down.‘
’Hush child don’t make a sound.’
‘Don’t bother telling Lucy ‘cause she doesn’t give a damn.’
‘Why bother bothering? Just for a poem or another sad song to sing.’
‘…but underneath she’s just a broken girl.’
Trying to start all over,
~Vanny
