It seems writing has become my last resort to salvage what's left of my sanity. Gone are the days where I write just to feel. Everytime I try to run away from something, it catches up with me. I'm so tired of this impending sense of lethargy, this compounding ache for something different. I'm so tired of feeling physically drained from absolutely nothing. One day it is just the emotions that way you up inside, you tell yourself you're okay and people tell you you're fine. So you pile such immense bullshit on top of the emotions, you keep piling it until suddenly you realize how worn out you've become. How physically fuckin draining it is to pile all these false sense of recovery over brokenness that now it seems to be too much of a mess to even figure out where to start. People lie to you, and you lie to yourself, that everything turns out to be a huge fuckin lie. But we never learn do we. We're always looking for someone to love us, to help us make sense of this cruel place we live in. But from my experience, it has turned into a much dreaded place from where it started out to be.