In the quiet solitude of today, a heavy sadness engulfs me, clinging to the remnants of Christmas and New Year's Eve, their festive cheer a distant echo. Alone in the shadows, I watch the world celebrate, each passing moment deepening the ache within.
In the echoing clangs of the mechanics shop, where co-workers share laughter and camaraderie, I am but a bystander to their joy. Envy creeps in, an unwelcome companion, as I yearn for connection in a world that seems to have forgotten my existence.
Thoughts of despair weave through my mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of my isolation and the cruel symphony of life's discordant chords. The mechanics' banter becomes a bitter reminder of the camaraderie I crave, a wrenching ache in my chest.
The blackpill, once a bitter pill to swallow, has now morphed into a numbing acceptance of the inevitable. Individual wounds have fused into a collective scar, the most absolute and sad fatalism overshadowing every aspect of existence. Life, once filled with potential, now feels like a wasted canvas painted with the hues of missed opportunities and unfulfilled dreams.
It's over, and it didn't even begin. A wasted life, a crying that will never be heard. Born to be wasted...
In the echoing clangs of the mechanics shop, where co-workers share laughter and camaraderie, I am but a bystander to their joy. Envy creeps in, an unwelcome companion, as I yearn for connection in a world that seems to have forgotten my existence.
Thoughts of despair weave through my mind like a haunting melody, each note a reminder of my isolation and the cruel symphony of life's discordant chords. The mechanics' banter becomes a bitter reminder of the camaraderie I crave, a wrenching ache in my chest.
The blackpill, once a bitter pill to swallow, has now morphed into a numbing acceptance of the inevitable. Individual wounds have fused into a collective scar, the most absolute and sad fatalism overshadowing every aspect of existence. Life, once filled with potential, now feels like a wasted canvas painted with the hues of missed opportunities and unfulfilled dreams.
It's over, and it didn't even begin. A wasted life, a crying that will never be heard. Born to be wasted...
