It’s been a week since I turned 21 years old. It was another one of those days where I never thought I’d live to see that age, I thought I’d be dead by then. Ended it all by then.
But here I’m, 21 years old, another year wasted. As I sit here, writing this, I realise my youth is officially gone. And the worst part is, I spent it all sitting alone in this room. I don’t have cool stories to tell about my youth. From here on the only thing I have to look forward to is death. At least that’s a light at the end of this tunnel.
I always get really sad around my birthday, perhaps because I’m always alone, even on my birthday.
This year was different though. The empty feeling eating a hole in my chest is burrowing deeper than before. It has teeth, claws and a greedy disposition. It’s hungry and the worst parts is that I’m ready for it to consume me. Nothing matters anymore and there is a dark beauty in the freedom depression gives me now. I’m not tied down, at any moment it can all be over, and I think I want it to be over.
“Suicidal” is a strong word, I’d call it more a peace. “Death is peaceful, easy. Life is harder.” I wish I could close my eyes and just die.
I’m only 21 but it feels like my life is over. I want it to be over.
But I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it so don’t worry about me. No one does anyway. I spent the day alone, not a single person wished me a happy birthday.
I wish I could just disappear, get in a car and drive until life is no longer visible in the rear-view mirror. Eat my memories and puke them into the trash so I can finally be empty and clean.
Whatever… here is to another worthless year.
izzy806
blakekathryn
snowghoul
andulkaphoto
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
2087
tangentwithtanner
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
