My doing is my karma, I don't have to be concerned about how other's act, cause that's theirs.

I got a haircut, it's gross. I look like a child.

I guess now my exterior has finally come to match my cryptic interior.

I've always been searching for death, I have finally come to realise that it's here, now.

Not only am I dead,

but I have been, for a while now.

Well, not exactly "dead" but I certainly haven't been alive either.

I'm merely subsisting.

This just fucking sucks, but tonight, I'm not crying over it.

 

Morbid

As of late, this word seems to define me better than ever. I've been psychologically poisoned since day one. Helpless, vulnerable, incapable of teaching myself at such a young age; allowing others to raise and nurture me. Now I am the one replenishing all these corruptions. Adapted to recoiling after misleading actions, words and thoughts. At times I feel it's a gift to all, knowing I've trapped myself in a cage like the wild animal that I am. I feel secured here, yet the need for a taste of freedom. The responsibility is the distaste of it all.
Sanity is approaching, I can feel it hovering over my core, I guess that's the safety I desire?
Unless I've simply become deranged.