Sea foam

The only bad thing about working by the ocean, is the overwhelming urge to throw myself off the pier. Yeah, I know, it’s the depression talking. I don’t know why, but I’ve just been crying a lot lately. Replaying failures again, and again. I don’t know how to stop it. It’s okay when I’m in the ocean, because this meat suit has it own ways of forcing itself to live. I still just want to let go of the board, or go too far out. Maybe one day, I’ll slip on a rock or something.

I’m tired of lectures. Whether by someone else, or myself.  I’m tired of taking the blame, and everything being placed on my shoulders. I had to explain to someone that I’ve never planned for the future. Why? I don’t want to make it there. I don’t want to continue one more day, but instead of doing anything, I’ll cry myself to sleep, then wake up and pretend like everything is okay. Secretly, I’ll be wishing I could disappear into the sea foam.

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