The Existence Of Amy

by Lana Grace Riva

One more fun occasion I have been robbed of attending. I add it to the pile of mounting evidence of how I'm failing. Failing at being alive.

One lone thought is on a loop in my head. 'Am I ever going to be able to properly function as a human being?'

And I would be severely missing out without books. I am almost granted a proper break with them.

'It just seemed to come out of nowhere. I lost ability to see the good in all the good things in my life. I twisted them all up in my head to make them bad instead. Seemed like that was then all I could focus on. I didn't want to get out of bed, I didn't want to shower, I certainly didn't want to leave the house. And so, I didn't do any of those things. I just sort of gave in and gave up.'

Being in my current existence hurts. It hurts so very vastly there are no words that exist to truly depict its measure. I feel so drawn to just making it stop, regardless of any consequences.