I Have the Right to Die How I Wanna...

Mood: tired.
Hating: homework and insomnia.
Loving: pudding.
Lip-syncing: Avenged Sevenfold -- Brompton Cocktail

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Life changes fast. You can miss it if you blink. Sixty seconds is a minute. Sixty minutes is an hour. Twenty four hours extends from day to night to day again. There are three hundred and sixty five days in a year.

That’s eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours that I can’t think straight. In my life, I try to approach every day like a milestone. But every new day is just a closer day to the end. You never know when it’s going to happen. All you’re planning, all you’re worrying, all gone in a second, a minute, an hour, a day.



I lie in bed at 2.00am. The clock ticks by, making normal seconds stretch on forever. I can’t sleep most nights, so I stare out the window and watch the moonlight flood into the room. I'm fascinated by the way it pools at the foot of my bed, caressing the sheets and the pile of laundry there. I don’t really know why, but when I close my eyes at night, I picture every aspect of my life. And I can’t deal with my dreams, or even my reality.

Sometimes I feel like screaming.

I feel like screaming so loud, that everyone should hear my pain. Should hear how I need help. I reach for an extended hand, but grasp nothing.

Sometimes I feel like screaming.

I feel like screaming so loud, that it's silent. The silence is overpowering, suffocating. I gasp for substance, for air; for anything. But once again there's nothing.

Sometimes I just feel like nothing.