i cant look back at my past and feel that pain again. no, im much too numb for that. all i come across with these days are flashbacks that i can easily discard into that far corner of my mind with one blink. im not concerned about this emptiness, this lack of purpose, this bitter taste in my mouth when i think of things i dare not recall, im more worried about growing old and holding those memories imprisoned inside my heart. i am probably going crazy, yes surely.

the other day, i told my friend that i cant write anymore, my life has come to a stand still, i have succeeded in perfectly isolating myself from the world around me. thus i have nothing to write about. nothing ever really happens anymore. i dont notice those tiny details that used to be big moments when i shared them with someone special. i lost that listener, and so i have lost my words.

how does one continue this vicious cycle of waking, walking, living, and sleeping in this horribly meanigless place?

“Sometimes, hope can bear a terrible price. (Hope is a frivolous concept. Life, after all, is a terminal condition from the very start, isn’t it?)”
– quote from asylumnation –