Autopsy

There is not a day that I wish I disappeared and to be honest, I literally have zero will to get up everyday. I don’t think I’ll ever escape this loophole, is there even a way to escape? Or do I just have to simply live this kind of life til I cannot anymore. The idea of trying to “unalive” had been circling everyone’s minds lately and trust me, it crossed mine more often than it supposed to. We all have our days— I know that, but whatever it is that keeps me going everyday lately felt like something fights off that feeling inside me. As if I am trying to “undead” myself, to step out of the darkness that once fed my attention-hungry soul. This feeling reveals my autopsy and it gave me a chance to once again sew myself with the same words that ripped this skin— so aggressive I thought they pierced my bones persistently. It did hurt when I realized the things that killed me in confidence. Thinking that it brings me comfort, I run back to the same hands that concluded this autopsy only to find out I am conducting it for myself.