looking down on my own cage from far, far away, and dear god, why can’t you just leave me alone?

slipping out of my own skin, ever-so-slow. and it’s all so stupid, and messy. and i don’t want to go outside, okay? i don’t want to fucking know.

because there’s nothing i can do anyway. because my mind is on fire anyway. because maybe mental health is just an entitled first-world construct anyway. and maybe i don’t deserve to be happy.

maybe… maybe this is it. maybe this is where the world ends, and the sky collapses, or maybe it’s just my brain being melodramatic. but if it is… i can’t tell the difference.