Tired and broken

Do I really? Do I really have to survive? I was once good, excellent at what I did, I was proud of me, I was happy.

Now, now everything is gone, it's ordinary, boring, mechanics and mistakes, now is work.

I don't have a good passion, I don't have that one thing that leaves you without eating, the subject that leaves you dreaming, the one to go mad for.

I don't.

For me love is painful, a destroyer, exhausting. His eyes were green and he had a crooked smile. In winter his arms were warm and in him I trusted.

He was worst than my demons.

Friends and family, the most important ones. The ones I care about, the ones I like and hate. You, my people. Are amazing and imperfect and it's great but I ain't one of you. I made it until I broke it.

I am sorry.

Now, I am alone surrounded by nothing but silence and pain. A growing eating pain and I am so very tired. Can't I go to sleep? Can't I stop this dream? Can you help me die?

T.A.