Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

Honestly, I should go.

Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody gave up. This is quite wrong.

— Sally Bramption, Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression.


Warum liest du das?


I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. 
I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything because I'm afraid I'll stutter.


The body clock rings.

A brand new day has begun.
A new set of thoughts has began its motion.

Making a cup of coffee is instantaneous and natural.
Making a cup of tea is extra effort and optional.

Taking a walk to school is a huge temptation for discipline.
Feeling miserable in school is not mandatory.

Time to head back to bed.

Lie awake for a long time.
Let the thoughts keep you awake.

 Take sips of coffee.
There's all the time in the world.

Enjoy the moment.
Rarely does time stand so still.

Eyes as wide awake as the mind.

Tears fall as anxiety pours.
Heart aches despite caution exercised.

Displacement becomes a misunderstood word.
Ego becomes its replacement word.

The mind wants to block you out.
The mind doesn't even want to allow it.

What a swell time for the eyes.

All blame is accepted.
All blame is necessitated.

There is always fault in having feelings.
There is always fault in showing feelings.

It's probably easier to accept assumptions.
It's probably easier to take it all in.

Stuck in reverse.

Food is ready with an inviting aroma.
Pretend to have an appetite.

Starve the sadness away.
Pretend the food didn't exist.

No one can help with feeding.
Pretend people don't exist.

Nothing is real.

Suppose I could surround myself with warmth.
A fireplace beats companionship.

Suppose I could surround myself with thoughts.
Maybe a walk with you just isn't enough.

Suppose I could suppress the temptation.
Nonetheless, I'm no good for you.


Therapy sessions are too silent.
Meeting of the voices are too much of the contrary.

Where can I find the right words?
How do everyone expect me to be okay?
Why are the expectations of me are so high?
How am I supposed to put feelings into words?
Why do I always hide behind stories and metaphors?
Why do I not know how to say how I really feel?
Why do you get to do all that to my fragile mind?
Why do you lead me on and not believe me?
Where can I go from here—down or out?
How do I get out of this life?


Niemand ist vor dem Ende sicher.



I'll let you down. 
I know it.
I'll let you down over and over.

I don't wanna dance.
I don't know how.
I don't wanna dance.
I don't know how to dance with you.


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