>>21092309I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked myself what the point of it all was. Was it all just a cruel joke, a series of empty gestures leading nowhere? I think about the things I once held dear, the people who once brought light into my world, and I wonder where it all went wrong. Maybe it was inevitable, this slow unraveling of everything I thought I could count on. Or maybe I was always destined to end up here, alone and forgotten. The truth is, I don’t even remember what it felt like to be truly alive, to feel something other than this endless fatigue, this deep, bone-weary tiredness that has settled into my very soul. I am tired—so very, very tired of this life, of the endless monotony, of the weight of it all.
There’s nothing left for me now. The world outside my window carries on, indifferent to my existence, oblivious to the fact that I’m still here, still breathing, still waiting for an end that feels like it should have come long ago. I’m a relic, a forgotten piece of a forgotten time, left to wither away in silence. And as the days drag on, one after the other, I can’t help but feel that I’ve been abandoned, not just by the people I once knew, but by life itself. I have nothing left to offer, nothing left to give, and nothing left to lose. All that remains is this overwhelming sense of exhaustion, this desperate longing for the release that only death can bring. And yet, here I am, still lingering, still existing in this twilight, too tired to continue, but somehow too stubborn to let go.
