Is this life worth living? I find no purpose for my existence. Every breath is a drag, a burden that hangs heavy in the air, every word is a slog that trudges from my dislodged throat and dissolves into meaningless particles, eaten up by the rest of the world. This smile, this mask is heavier and heavier by the day, slipping slowly off my face, melting. They don’t know what’s happening with me; I don’t know what’s hollowing my insides out. All I feel is the vague thrashing within my chest by the unknown, pulsing weakly against the layers that suffocate and numb. I should really end this.
Drift
Threw all caution to the wind
