it chills my heart so

hey you, ludic lover

And this is how it feels like having nothing to say, having nothing you want to tell to others. Since I only like to scream and shout when things aren't going my way, when I do nothing but complain and whine but not doing anything to make something better, and apparently I'm an emotional wreck that gets uncontrollable and scary, then why not just keep everything inside. But I don't do it much anymore. Maybe I just can't be bothered, maybe I've zen-ed, or maybe I'm just plain tired.

You don't know how phobic I can get, how I experience a distaste so bad with those words. And I end up getting disgusted with myself, but I just can't brush that feeling away. It just makes me want to retch. I'm done trying to be another person, so done. If it's come to this, what's the point? What am I still holding on to? I would love the thrills, the adrenaline, without the fucking stress. You'll never notice, never comprehend, never try to make anything better. Everybody's just living in their own locked up world, seeing nobody else but themselves.

Yes, I'm done being somebody else. But I want to really be somebody else. I want to be unrecognizable. I need a bloody change. I want to look into the mirror and see somebody else, other than myself. Nothing that can remind me of everything I had been.

No, no baby steps. You can't afford to. Nobody ever waits for anyone. The whole bloody world moves on.