When the night comes, here's only me and my dark

Is that okay that the voice of a person I don't even know makes me stop breathing and mesmerized? Is it what falling feels like? Hope not. I can't be loved so I gotta stop hoping for

But in the end, the 8 year of freedom has ended.

Because of some overwhelming feeling of that dark pit in me, I decided to create that blog just for journaling reasons, and maybe as a way to process some feelings, word them out. Idk how it goes, but I need some space to spill it. Not sure if I want someone to see it, definitely don't want my friends to see this. But if you're be comfortable to spill it too, feel free to.

Between dreams at night and daydreams, I am not truly living. I maintain only a bare minimum of activity, for I no longer have the strength for anything more. I cannot do more, because the very resource required to do so is gone. And I cannot let go of my daydreams, for they are all I have left-the only thing that still brings me any measure of solace. It is so strange: sitting in a room full of normal, healthy people and suddenly feeling that sickening sense of alienation. I do not feel like part of the crowd, even though I am physically among them-and perhaps that is the only thing I share with others. Yet, that sickening feeling weighs so heavily on me. It gives me a headache and makes me want to retch; when it intensifies, I feel an urge to run to the razor blades or the bottle. I know I will never recover or get better-I know it-but it hurts all the same. It hurts to realize that happiness is right there, literally within reach of the person next to me, while I have none of it and never will. I am no longer worthy of happiness. Only my daydreams offer me comfort. They grant me a fleeting taste of the love I have been denied but have always craved; a second where I forget I am alone; a moment where I can escape the world and savor at least a fragment of happiness.