bethezda

I ache with hollowness and watch others take for granted the simple things like smiles, laughter and company. Everyday, the same routine rolls by and the twisted irony that this is the only thing I can be a part of sickens me. Sometimes I wonder why I'm doing this, or more accurately, why I'm not sdoing something else. I haven't felt excited in days and my interaction with other people consists soley of over the counter greetings, over as quickly as they began and leave me feeling cheap. And now, I finally write the question I've been thinking for so long and the words stare back at me like my reflection in a mirror.

What the fuck is wrong with me??