Everything’s turning to shit again.
I was happy. For that one small amount of days, maybe a month or so. Maybe two. I was happy. Friends were around me, I drank, I sang, I danced in the awe that was the eternal life of wholeness.
I know I’m the only person bringing me down, but there’s a difference between enlightenment and ignoring your suffering.
I ignore it, obviously.
I change subjects, stare at my phone’s cracked screen, do some damage to myself.
Anything to stop the cracks from spreading anywhere else.
I’m a blip, on everyone’s radar.
I’m no one’s final destination.