Just another day, it’s just another day.

Another sad day. I’m lying in bed again. Staring at the wall, trying to shut off my brain and not feel anything. Not this extreme sadness. In the background, the clock keeps ticking. Now and then I watch at it, seeing midnight come again. For another day, I didn’t change my clothes. Being awake and asleep in the clothes. Haven’t showered for days. Haven’t eaten well for days. Somehow it is all too heavy and I can not manage to do somehting about it. All I want is crawl away in bed. But my beds sucks too. Last week, I washed all the bed clothes, but I never bothered to put them on the blankets and pillows again. Lying on a bare mattress, my sleeping bag and undressed blankets. Hello again, depression. Hello again, apathy. Hello again, awful feelings. Hello again, loneliness.

Suddenly it strikes me how lonely I feel. How I lost myself. How I lost everything. How I do not know things anymore. Voices on the street pass by, like a distant radioshow. They seem happy. The contrasts are big again.

All this time, I have been living in a lie. I have never been myself. Always adapting one or the other way. Always searching for to be accepted, to be loved. To be part of something. And this is what is really me, or what is left of me. A piece of garbage lying down in bed. A useless, ugly, not able to manage, creature that can not even take care of herself.

Finally I fall asleep. And wake up, much too early. I don’t have to step out of bed to predict this day. I turn around. No need to press on repeat.


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