Can you see the gaze in my eyes?
Do I look like someone that gives up so fucking easily?
I do this on my own faith. My own flame.
Even when I give up, I always find a way to fucking keep moving foward. I can't even explain it for myself.
It's like this little switch in my head. This voice. This echo.
It wakes me up. It opens my eyes. Reminds me why I'm still here. It's like a bucket of ice being poured on your eyeballs.
It's scary to move forward. It's not what I'm used to. I've spent my life running away. Hiding. Shutting down. Ashamed.
I'm going to be 27 years old in 29 days.
I'm just so fucking tired of it.
It's gotten so old. It's gotten annoying. This bullshit control my mental illness has on me.
I can't keep going on like this.
I'm not going to give up 27 years of memories, both good and bad, just because my brain decides to think against me. Every scar I've felt is another story to tell.
I've built this personal throne for me for too long to let it fall apart NOW.
I'm winning this mental war.
I made it this far.
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