It seems like every move forward in life i make the farther down i fall. The more detached i become from reality. From myself. He might see hope. A place to actually start life. But i see a black void. I see things getting darker and worse. I dont see happiness. I wish i could. But instead i just see more stress. And the weed. The less said about it the better. It doesnt help at all. It just makes things worse. The thoughts dont stop. They just become easier to hide. People just THINK im ok. They just THINK its helping. With each passing second, that bridge down the road from me is looking more and more inviting.