Work Text:
Suicidal.
The word most people, including myself , use. But even though I use it- can I call myself suicidal if I don’t want to die - just disappear.
Perhaps that’s the same thing- maybe it’s not. It wouldn’t change anything; especially not my fucked up life.
Dream - I was Dream to everybody, because it’s so easy to hide your true emotions through a microphone.
Except everything fell apart - you can’t hide your emotions for too long. That’s where I messed up.
Ignoring the fact i’d caused an argument between me and George - but , I’m crumbling into a black pit of self pity and depression everyday.
Put on a smile.
Thats easy.
I can smile- fuck, I wear a smiling ‘mask’ everyday.
But you know what I can’t do?
Stay in this world.
Sometimes I find myself leaning towards the idea i’m more of a nuisance than anything else- waste of space.
It’s okay though.
I didn’t plan on staying much longer.
I run a hand through my dirty blonde hair, reminding myself what I had to do, eventually.
But it wasn’t eventually yet.