nottocare

[kurissutrash]

I neglected my first love. was a stranger for her sake, or so I told myself

[kurissutrash]

perhaps a setup for fiction

[kurissutrash]

these are supposed to be lyrics for something I haven't yet gone about doing

[kurissutrash]

kind of a twist

[kurissutrash]

I'm just so depressed and derealized that nothing comes as natural anymore. I'll post whatever bs I've written and saved

[distractedboyfriend]

[kurissutrash]

how did this come to happen

[tripproject]

Drugs & SSRIs/SNRIs, NDRIs, MAOIs: If anyone knows any others, please post w. a source!

[boring-branch]

One of my anti-depressant’s possible side-effect is sudden death. Lit :]

[kurissutrash]

wait... really? I'm on that shit too

[mashkwi-deactivated20230405]

Escitalopram Works for shit

Still fucking depressed

[kurissutrash]

™

[rotfront-deactivated20220729]

[shifgsthivc]

I really do sing about everything, don't I

Song I just sung:

Escitalopram, you are my friend

You make me sane

When I feel like killin’ mahself

yeah

[spicyshimmy-blog]

legally an adult, mentally a bioware pc who says the same thing every time you see me, emotionally fine dwarven crafts direct from orzammar

[kurissutrash]

it's kind of about me being depressed and going at whatever it is you'd call man's folly, in people's lives. and then also, placing the strife above the calm. the self, one's strife above the other's, unwitting, playing along with the destructive charade cause that's how we are despite what we can be and idk

[kurissutrash]

[kurissutrash]

we all make our way to calvary

with clumsy young hands,

under an old man's gaze.

shivering,

we all make our way to calvary.

every step carries forth a gasp to forget,

each stride a splitting glare,

and to a glance back, the holding of hands.

clasping the board, players both,

the dying and death,

they make amends.

of that thought irreconcilable, however lost.

however, forever lost,

no matter whom to,

true willing dies not.

true willing dies not.

it's fictional paragons who carry-on forth.

dying each day, undying,

they carry-on forth,

not unlike all things thought.

those who think die nonetheless.

and those things, from them thought,

are they lost not?

if lost, recollected may they be.

again thought, by those to think.

how unthought.

it's chilling to me and to the mind,

just how unthought these thoughts are.

whose am I?

has God thought of me?

and through his verb made me to be amongst his thoughts thought?

who would've thought?

[kurissutrash]

[yungmalta-deactivated20230429]