
i really don't think it was ever ok. the long walks never end, and i never think i'm going to find it. i stopped feeling a long time ago. i've lost the desire for retribution. time turns inward on itself. i cannibalize my memories, living the past over and over again until it becomes meaningless. finding nothing that i enjoyed from when i was happy. concepts and ideas become my shelter, but my sanctuary becomes harder and harder to find. placidity, tranquility, serenity, torn apart by constant thought. what is there to gain? why leave the comfort of anxiety when its easier to know the trials i face? digging deeper and deeper until all thats left is the final rush towards relenting. there really is nothing deeper is there?




