there’s a profound horror in the awareness of the indifference toward the future you have long let go of. you can speak of it through words, but the desire to feel it is just a mere attempt to drown yourself in a tub of cold water—wishing it was a vast, deep ocean. with realizing you’ve grown tired of wishing for a better tomorrow comes an absolute terror. you try to solve it by going to sleep, waking up the next day, only to be greeted by colorless surroundings. you do it over and over, silently hoping you’d be rewarded by a certain escape you’ve been so desperate for— because again, all of what’s happening to you is simply life letting you know that death is not always the ugliest form of salvation.
other3 felt this