Could it be that I am a ghost?
I walk around but my feet don't feel the ground.
I look at the hand in front of me but somehow I can see right through it.
What if every soul has a predestined number of days?
Well with every movement of this translucent body I can hear the rattle of my dead soul. Like its clock has run out but it remains confined to this living coffin.
Damn you! You beating heart!
I have tried to bleed. I have tried to laugh. I have tried to starve. I have tried to sing. Anything to bring this dead soul back to life.
Am I blind?! Are the answers to all my questions right in front of me?
Could all those clichés, those 'live, laugh, love' quotes, really change my life if only I lived, laughed, or loved in the right way?
'You just need to choose happiness.'
But how?! No one will tell me how! Not the random strangers on the internet, the friends...not even the numerous freaking therapists.
Does it really come that easy to everyone else that it doesn't need explaining?
At least I admit I'm fucked up.
I don't hide behind platitudes and gluten-free diets and cute little letter boards with information no one gives a shit about.
I mean really? Is that really making you happy?
Good for you.
Really. I mean it.
Maybe I only lash out out of jealousy. Or bitterness. Or an unhealthy cynicism about the world and the people on it.
We're all fucked up. And we have to get better at talking about it.
I know. Trust me, I know. I'm a hypocrite.
But at least I'll admit it.