I don't know who I am
All I know is who I've been
And I hope I turn out
As someone different than him
Or so help me god
I think I might kill myself
To save the world
From having to deal with my bullshit
Please world if it comes to it
Won't you please
Turn off the lights on my life
The setting sun steals away
Any resemblance of happiness from my soul
But then why is it that I treat the night
Like it comforting to me
Maybe I'm just comfortable being sad
But wouldn't that make me just as bad
As all those people who have given up on life already
Shouldn't I feel the want to be happy?
Shouldn't I want to make it out of here alive?
Shouldn't I want to live a long life?
I think I failed at personhood
If this is normal then I feel bad for anyone
Who's has ever had to live
I know that I should keep writing my story
But it's two hundred pages in and it's so god damn boring
I'm not sure if its even worth finishing
My life is terrible inspiration
For my own bleak future
I know it's wrong but I'm just waiting
For someone else's story to intertwine
With my own
It's the only way that I can imagine
That my story would be worth reading
Nonfiction has never sat well with me
I prefer everything with a touch of fantasy
Time to own up to my life
Time to get my shit together
Time to wake up without wanting to die
Time to wake up from my dreams
Time to start my day wanting to be alive
