Im Nostalgic Of A Childhood I Never Had. Of A Parent That Was Never Mine. Of A Comfort That Was Never

I’m nostalgic of a childhood I never had. Of a parent that was never mine. Of a comfort that was never there. Of a inner peace that I never had.

Why do I have to start thinking about it again? I was okay with being alive for weeks, I really thought I was getting better

Y'all ever just not feel real?

Like you're there, but not there. You feel things, but you aren't. It all feels the same, which is nothing- or it's too fuzzy to tell any difference? You see yourself, but it's not you. You don't recognize yourself in the mirror, you don't know who that is, but it isn't you. You don't know what you look like, but it isn't what is in the mirror.

I want to do things, but I can't. And I don't know why.

I don't like these days.

Undertaker by Artem Demura

Clarice Lispector, from “A Breath of Life”, published posthumously in Brazil in the late 1970s

i want to leave everything behind and disappear