I. LIVE.
It's been 2 months since I've lost my grandma. Thought I was going to lose it. Never in my life... for 27 years... Too much. It'll hit me even harder but when? 1 year later from now? But let's go back and now look at me... living and shit... such hypocrisy, humankind scare the f out of me. At first I didn't feel anything at all. I knew it would've bash my brain wide open with this fancy looking lethal baseball bat. It did. Now I spend my nights questioning the fuck out of everything with such a numb feeling, with this dull look on my face. My face is a burden. My whole existence is a burden for me. I know. Because I exist. Don't get me wrong. I am, still thankful that I exist. But then there's this little one who always pokes me with it's very thin stick, it pierces through my skin and enters my veins, my arteries... Sometimes I even wonder what if all those blood isn't there anymore y'a kno'. It hurts. It does hurt like a bitch