There was no one as sick as me, I told myself, because that’s what was preached to me. No, sick people cannot comfort each other because what do we know? But sometimes, there’s an inkling in the deepest parts of my marrow. That, perhaps, our knowing we are not bad or alone in our way of thinking does help. I wish I knew I wasn’t the only person who felt like sitting in a dark corner and being forgotten—being dead. Of course, it’s odd and abnormal to yearn for such feelings. To not exist. To spectate without being, as we do now. So many people don’t understand. They refute the idea with their
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