I’m tired of the lies. I knew it would never get better. I know it never can. But we’re all fed that same lie. Over and over. Until we rip out our eyes so we stop seeing the truth. We paint on a smile like clowns. We’re beaten down with the hollow words of those driven mad.
It gets better. It gets better. It gets better.
See a therapist. See a therapist. See a therapist.
Take your pills. Take your pills. Take your pills.
Those broken by the weight of it all. Driven mad by toxic positivity and hopeless hope. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of being told I’m unwell; that filthy Kafka Trap. Only the ill would deny that they are ill. If I resist, it is proof of my illness. If I stand up and assert myself, it is evidence of my diagnosis. If I don’t conform, I am to be punished. Tortured with the abuse of the well-intentioned.
I am not the weak one. This world is weak. Its people are weak. I did not fail. Everyone failed me. I am not the guilty one for wanting to be done with this sick world, where death is a release from it all.
I welcome it.