Paper walls
A dying extrovert is what I am right now, just doing everything I can to prevent my extinction. Holding on always seemed so exhausting, very exhausting. As much as I love to talk so much, I love keeping shit to myself as much too. I tell myself, it is not real. It is not real when it is in my head, it's delusional. I am delusion and everything seems to be that way, it is easier. Everything I utter seems so repetitive. Every word feels like I've already spoken about it before. It is uneasy, it really is, in a way. But no matter how repetitive everything I utter is, it's still real and it is not delusional. These days, I have this recurring dream, I just drown. Drowning in a pool of my own blood, which tastes like frozen candy for some reason, but it is still painful when I wake up. The ghosts are catching up to me. It is easier to live your whole life in discomfort, than ever knowing comfort at all. Because when you do, when you know comfort and security and it is snatched a...