What’s even the point when nothing feels real? You feel like shit, wanting to harm and kill yourself for a few minutes or hours before you go back to your old, numb disconnected self. On one hand these spaces in time are the few moments when you actually feel real and connected with reality, on the other hand they’re just an other scale of grey in a bleak and dreary existence.
On one hand these are the few moments when you actually feel anything beyond complete apathy and contempt, on the other they’re nothing more than a flash.
On one hand these moments fill you with a deep desire to do something radical just to end the constant grind, like walk in the middle of the street to see if you’re hit by a car, or maybe punch a police officer in the face so they take you in and maybe then someone finally realises you have a problem.
On the other hand you’re to comfortable to want to change. Its so easy to crawl back to the bed, back to the grind, back to the long road towards death.