It won't go. It never goes. the feeling of emptiness, of uselessness. Doubting to have the strengh to do something, anything. Writting and erasing a hundred times, never happy.
Fighting the inevitable, fighting that voice that will come before sleep, reminding you that whatever you did, it wasn't good enough. It's never good enough. They're better than you, they're stronger than you, they're more beautiful, more intelligent. They're faster and smarter.
And alone in the dark all you can do is grit your teeth and hold on.
then Guilt comes in, and you feel ashamed not to be able to enjoy what you have and who you are. And then pride will shout back, saying that you're better than that! You're better than this self-deprecation.
And here you're are. in the middle of the storm, desperately looking for something to hold on.
And you're running forward, trying to get yourself tired enough to make the voices go. and sometimes it works. When every cell of your body aches, you finally find peace. For a moment, the voices are quiet.
I'm bored.
The voices overwelmed my brain, and here I am. There are so many things I should be doing. And yet I'm here, hoping that something will happen.
Letargy robbed me of my strengh, any kind of motivation.
I'm bored.
And now, I'll have to deal with the voices.
It will be a long night.
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