I look out at the years before me,

 

And often the years behind me,

 

Thinking only the worst things.

 

Do I continue,

 

Perish,

 

Thrive.

 

The question aches my mind in wonderfully unpleasant ways.

 

The shores of death will never call thine name.

 

The mercy of endlessness carries not I.

 

And the pain of living eternally,

 

is not as great as they say.

Loneliness

 

is not a fucking joke. and it thrives off things like me.

 

For I am Not a Social Creature.

 

The ennui,

 

The repetition,

 

The repetition,

 

The repetition,

The repetition.