Every single thing that is happening to me is slowly killing me inside. I’m not brave enough to kill myself, but I know that soon I’ll be dead and life will have no taste at all. I just want to feel something.
Author
Timshell
I always feel the same pain, the one that tells me that whatever I do, it will never be enough for me and for others. I am convicted. Convicted to live, to never be happy with myself. And even if it’s just an ephemeral feeling, what is the point to see that only after ? Everything will have been said and done, and I don’t want to be relatively satisfied with my life only when I look back. Because it will be too late. But too late for what ? I can’t even say.
How to live then ? And above all why ? I can’t […]