It could be anywhere but to your dismay its in the room you mostly spent some years in. Your bedroom, sometimes cold, sometimes lukewarm but never good enough to pay attention to it. You just got used to it. Severely understimulated, you move towards any form of stimulation like a moth would to light; this only advances the inevitable breakdown. Just like in that annoying video game where after some work on abnormalities a meltdown eventually occurs. You tried so hard to be understood but it sorta just never happened. With some, you dont have to explain yourself a lot. But when it comes down to it, you are still the only one suffering in silence. Alone again. Just like in that game. You finished it like two years ago? It reminds you of a person you've grown to despise. The endings spoke to you somehow. Now that you've reminded yourself, this is your whole deal. Trying to appreciate everything till it eventually falls out of your hands. You wanted to cry to several endings but it never happened.
This makes you so angry. You used to be able to weep even at the smallest inconveniences and now when your lifes gone to shit and theres little chance of changing the course of it you are as dry as the head archivists skin. You thought about starting diy. Waiting until youre overage and then getting opinions from people who know batshit nothing better than you is not really punk. You also have some semblance of a stable income. Somethings still keeping you from it though.
You always felt like you were gonna die next week. Next month. Next school year. Now you dont even know. If you got this far, you should do matura and then just enjoy the absence of horrors. Sometimes you feel like you cant do that, though.
Definitons are silly. The terf dictionary included the word "usually" in their chair definition. How dumb. If you tried to define life it would be hard. You could try to define it by a quality or just say absence of death. Or breathing.
It feels like no one sees or no one knows about mentally ill people unless they lash out. You didn't expect much more from your perfectly typical people but still.
You forgot about your despair a little but you still feel like utter garbage. Its always what you are unable to do and never things you're proud of. You could draw. Your hands are shaky, your pens are dull and tend to break, your rubbers are dirty and you used to enjoy it much more when you were in second grade. You could write poems. It never comes as naturally as it used to. You just want to do things that are out of your reach. Maybe its less scary to rot away yearning for the unknown than actually stepping outside.
Sometimes you just want to stab yourself but then you remember that one time you accidentally did that and it hurt so much, in such a pathetic and theatrical way. You could never disinfect or bandage shit anyway.
You just want to get up, pack the few things that are dear to you in a bag and then go to a friends house. You never know where any of them lives. Sure, you know the towns, but at bumfuck nowhere everything looks all the same.
Everything is awkward but especially at the first time. Do you just send the "texting is tiring can i come live with u" image or just go "ahah teehee umm bleh umm can we do an extended sleepover"? You don't know.
As the doubts are catching up you can feel your throat. You hate it. Whenever you feel that thing you want to rip it out of your skin, images of undescribable violence flashing in your mind. You've listened to this one track so long that it feels like you're losing the leftovers of your sanity. You really gotta do something.
"Hey Jupiter umm can I sleep over?"
You type fast but hitting enter is so anxiety inducing. You end up doing it anyway but make sure to close your phone afterwards.