It’s all so cruel.
I’m basking in the crippling reality that I wasn’t what I, and everyone,
thought out to be;
Paralyzed by the truth,
of all my bluffs being called out,
leaving me exposed in my
And the bile makes its way to my throat,
acid formed by the fear choking rationality from within,
With every carefree post on my feed
of people laughing, achieving all they had set out to achieve;
While all I have are shallowly cut wrists,
and a growing pile of shows to watch when the nights get too dark and suffocating;
While all I am is lying on the bed,
alone with a mind once deemed worthy of recognition,
yet now a living, thriving sanctuary of fuck-ups and self-deprecating poetry–
It’s so lonely
to be the only one chasing death
when everyone else seems to be chasing their dreams.
Pats on the back turned to looks of pity.
It really is cruel,
and if you can find it beautiful,
consider yourself one of lucky ones.