After so many years, It never did stop. It never got ‘better’ and it never left in any manner. I ignored it. But That desire for Death, whatever it is, remains. It has been for far longer than even then, so many years ago.
But then such begs the question- What the fuck is crushing me like this? What the hell could this be? How is this happening? Can I do nothing except to hope for death? By measure of this world’s values, Such seems be the only answer. Hope. And do not touch. Love, and do not speak. Do not embrace. Do not acknowledge, do not address.
A curse, be it maybe- A burden, in many manners- A torture, no doubt.
Fuck this which haunts me -truly, as it be. Forsaken, held under the current, I sputter my air to cold moving water which forgives not my my struggle.
I lose all.
It has never ended.
Only a fool be I for believing otherwise, time and time again.
Trust only pain, trust only desperate hope, find your solace here, sayeth bound curse to accursed. Follow me. So it demands. Procure no quarter.