where we write it

silent to myself

.

.

I look around, do things and waste time just to escape how sober and lifeless time is.

My memory is broken, and my conscious is a mess.  My inside screams are mere background noises.

Moving muscles , fading thoughts,…  nothing is gained, nothing is changed, and repeat..

with or without meds,  suicidal;  I can’t rest, always stressed,  give me anything that passes time.   my mind wont accept the same tricks;  can’t be fun at this point… it’s just messed up, hateful and nasty. really?  crying every night? my brain can’t be serious.  I care about everything I can’t reach;  races, and people born everywhere, thoughts, conscious and emotions lived every second. ohh, god, I’d love to sit and talk myself to death with someone who understands… because I’ve been silent to myself to death many times.

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