i was going to write something about how drop-dead exhausted we feel.  
about how unrested and tired and sad and miserable and– 

who cares?

yelling into the void isn’t going to make it any better.  at least not today. 
today it won’t fix the loneliness, the solitude, the soul-writhing pain- none of it will go away by just screaming into this fucking journal or the telegram channel or any other place. 

because noone fucking cares about the suffering. because it all just “gets solved”. because it just never matters because at the end of the day there’s nothing and noone that can fix this. 

… 

so we’ll just keep pushing. and pushing. and pushing. 

until it all settles down and finds resolution.  or we falter trying. 
because we’re nothing but alone in this stupid and barren fucking existence, with nothing but our mismatched soul and body, our split core, the more-than-one dysphorias, the solitude, the despair.

and noone will know.  or notice.  or care. 
fuck this, fuck it,  fuck it all.

the pain never stops and the horrors still persist, and even if we also persist, that doesn’t mean that the horrors will stop soon, if ever. 

i want off. 
i want rest. 
i want something, somewhere– fuck, anything that feels remotely right 

– END OF CONTENT –          

‣ /lyr

i think of you all time

now that you’re gone

..
i’ve been doing all kinds of drugs

to get you out of my mind

..

cause i noticed you don’t like me no more

and it breaks my heart

..

so i’ll just drift away,

and disappear for a while