You don’t know how it is in my head
And that is the reason why you dismiss me as some pop up ad on your browser or terms and agreement on a site.
The reason why you hang up when I’m trying to swerve you into the argument that I am not okay, that what I’m feeling is not temporary. It’s like a yo-yo that falls then recoils and then falls again. Maddening me into dark thoughts that lurk at every corner of a knife or a balcony at the top floor of any building that’s choking me to get it over with. And the fear that they say about dying? Doesn’t exist at that time.
Living is the nightmare
And, dying is the release.