Today I feel like I haven't felt since I was a teenager. Like I'm going to do something that I really shouldn't even consider. Like I'm dead inside, with nothing left to give or live for. I'm so god damned tired or of being alone inside my head. I want someone to grab me. Shake me. Smack my face. Scream at me to wake the fuck up. Do something that will draw me out of my exile. But, I keep those people who could possibly help me through this at arms length. I don't let them past my impenetrable towers. I spit vitriol in their eyes to blind them to the pain hiding in my soul. I drown their ears in torrents of hatred so they can't hear my cries of despair. I laugh through my self loathing so they can't see I'm dying inside. I have known for over a decade how I'll die. I've just been waiting for the last little nudge to push me through the doors into the brightest darkness, the shining void of death. The salvation from despair.
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