i wish i could disappear.
edit: maybe i am disappearing. maybe it’s a subtle process wherein i remove myself from the world bit by bit until there’s nothing left of me. i’m not delusional; i know people would care. but i’m so tired. i’m so heavy with worry and grief and abject terror. time feels wasted on me. resources, too. that in itself feels terrifying. but i’m just one of many people in the world who are hurting, struggling to make meaning, failing. it could be worse — i’m aware. it could be so much worse, but that’s not comforting. i’m tired of living in my head. it’s not a safe place. there are no safe places. that’s part of the problem. wherever i go, there i am, with regret not far behind. good intentions are not enough. i am a graveyard of good intentions. and its time to go to sleep.