Head down. Watch my feet, they move, forward, one step at a time. Head up, and I see I've gotten nowhere, that I'm still in the same place. How can that be? How can I be moving forward, but getting nowhere?
Not living anymore, purely surviving, breathing, because that's what I'm supposed to do. Supposed to be tough, strong, get through anything. It's who I am.
Or who I was. I'm not strong anymore. I'm broken, completely, and thoroughly. I wake up, and sigh, because I've woken up. Each passing minute is a draining. I don't know how many more minutes I can force my way through.
No more tears.
I've grown tired of this world. Plainly put, I am unhappy, uncontent, and unwilling. And ashamed of myself for not being strong enough anymore. I walk a very thin line, which grows more thin with each day that passes. On one side, survival, breathing, more of the same. On the other, the end.
Of everything.
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