(TW : Suicidal Ideation)

I lack inspiration,

But I don’t want to write about the things I’m trying not to think about,

As that defeats the purpose of avoding them entirely.

But without suffering,

What is there to write about?

Not when my life isn’t unique or profound.

Not when I have no transcending love that will live on in fairytales,

No valor,

No bravery,

No calling I woud die for,

Other than the calling of death herself.

I told myself I wouldn’t go here tonight,

But I can never ignore the inevitability,

How little of life is actually in my control.

I’d rather go on my own terms,

You know?

You know?