I truly wish to die. Not specifically in the suicide form, but to fall asleep for good. The kind that is quiet and idyllic, unnoticed. I will never leave this shit country, I will never make a change for betterment, for the sake and safety of my people, I will never be able to save the children who may have the misfortune of growing up in a similar situation as I, and many. All because I let it get the best of me. It is a grotesque and godawful thing. Being seen and understood, But I want people to feel loved. It is only a battle, and I lose time and time again.
I wrote some bullshit earlier, first time in awhile, showed it to Heather. Maybe someone will feel a connection to it. Just stuck. In a filth, in an excrement of emotions.
I wish I could climb atop a transmission tower and sleep among its rungs like some sort of cocoon.
“Grief permeates my flesh, and I give out so easily. This veil, the tribulation. Trial cut unto I, the unwavering labyrinth, of now severed chains. I will learn to regurgitate and swallow once more.”
I need to nap or something. This is bad.


I’m really sorry, Mar. I think you really do all those things. I really love your writings. I wish you didn’t need rest.