I have bottomed out and my future doesn't fit into my schedule. All booked up on depression and self-loathing. Buried deep in sleep from pa**ing out, no time to plan ahead. Someone please tell me, why do i think this way? Someone please tell me that this isn't the end of everything. A chemical imbalance? No. The smell of my own vomit lost in my last tears.
No more kissing clocks or throwing coins into wishing wells to try and fix the way I f**ed myself. When it's finally here, it's never enough and when it's finally gone, it's never coming back. Somehow I fooled myself into believing that this would work out, that I wouldn't end up hurt.