I assume so, at least, for another refuse truck has graced my street. Yet I remain living, not-living my life not-life.

Static, unchanging, unfeeling, and alone without being alone. Not even rotting for rot is a part of life, and I’m not living and not not-living.

Maybe you, the reader, are also not living your not-life with me, without me. Surely you can live and rot and feel once more one day someday soon. Be it the breeze in your lungs, or on your skin, the sun on your hair, pain and joy, and misery, too. I might one day have those things again as well.

For now another week passes by as so, too, does the refuse truck. Its routine a tedious inevitability.

  • Basedandtrollpilled
    2·
    9 hours ago

    I wholeheartedly support your wishes. I too wanted to write something, perhaps a novel, perhaps just something to express my thoughts but i kind of feel I’m now yet ready. Maybe one day. Also thank you for your kind wishes ^^ i want to stay with my mother though, i love her despite everything. I believe I’ll figure this out.