It is that time of the year where nothing seems to feel real. Nothing is worth the effort it requires. It is the time of the year where I give up. I resign myself to the leech that eats away at my hope. The season of thinking where is the best place to end my life. The end of April, brings the worst month of the year for me; May, the month before I was born. The month where I wished I died as a fetus and was nonexistent as my dreams and aspirations. This is where I talk about how I can never be healed. I feel that my life has stagnated. I haven’t grown at all. I am still the same sad little child that only wished to die. Gruesome, painful, painless; I do not care let my death appear in front of me. Stop telling me to keep going. I want to wallow in my sadness for now. Being sad is easy, that I know and life being difficult is common knowledge . I know what I have to do and preach to myself. May I offer this as a rebuttal? I simply do not care. These are all words that have no effect on a man that longs for death.
He is a lost cause. Let him be. He will end up killing himself eventually.
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