i-rot-and-decay

[i-rot-and-decay]

Not to lie, sometimes I even enjoy falling into myself so deeply that i feel like im sinking. I feel tired there, like laying in the eye of the hurricane. I know all my coping skills, and I know how to use them, but deep down happiness was never the answer, and it's a skill - loving your existence, the world, while deeply hating yourself and feeling like you might give out any minute. When you feel so lost for so long you stop hating it there. I still live by the notion ''I'm not lost, just wandering''. I'm wandering, and my body is a deep, deep forest, an art museum, that carefully preserves all the dust layers I stumbled upon throughout the years, all the fingerprintrs, looks, photographs to carry with me wherever I go. Most of them are just pain, heavy and sticky pain. I'm starting to think that I've always felt drawn to dead people because they felt the same while they were still trying to fight, but they didn't survive, and deep down I know that I'm far beyond saving and resquing, I'm dead. But it's interesting to see what you can do if you just _don't die_? Right?

[i-rot-and-decay]

I hate addiction so deeply. I hate myself, I hate everything and everyone I ever got addicted to. I hate the sticky fear that you feel when you think you might fall into it again, when you realize that you’re starting to get addicted.

The worst part is - I still don’t really realize who I am, I’m lost in all senses and I’m still just looking for a warm place to sleep. I’m lost in people, people are lost in me - this is why I seem like a deep hollow space with no life in it - you look around, you try to find life’s but to no avail.

No life, no love, no end inside. I don’t know how the fuck am I still alive, if I’m being honest with you.

[i-rot-and-decay]

[i-rot-and-decay]

Either way I can, I want to leave something here. A trace of what I once was - because truly and honestly, I don’t really know what I am. But hopefully, even though I don’t see it, you might.

I want somebody to read my notes here, or in my diary, or in my notes, and think of me. To preserve it and treasure it like their own child, so that a small part of my memory can live forever, and in a hundred or so years it will be in one of those creepy videos as another internet rabbithole. If you find it in 2100somethings, just know - I lived, I loved, I cried, I smiled, I’ve died a thousand times in my life and came back - and I felt - like nobody else. I felt so deep that the feelings scraped the very bottom of my heart, like an anchor scrapes the sea floor. It has left marks, cuts, red-violet bruises, hickeys, bites, kisses and fingerprints - and none of that has ever faded. It’s immortal inside me - so may it be immortal on the outside also.

[i-rot-and-decay]

[i-rot-and-decay]

Is there anonymity left on the internet?