I thought I've gone past wanting to die, but I'm back to square one— the agonizing toil. I don't want to die anymore. I want to be happy, no matter what. More evil people deserve the death I would've dealt to myself. I would offer those wicked, warmongering, and zealous lives for a single heartfelt smile from myself, my remaining loved ones, and all the distant people that had left a profound mark on my sickly heart, I would. But wht am I still here, working mundanely towards yet another mundane end? I don't know. I don't want to want to die again. Never again. I want to love and be loved. I don't know.
other1 felt this