❝ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ❞ (ᴛᴡ)

TW for suicidal ideation

Am I really living? Am I merely breathing? Am I merely surviving?

Drinking, water, food, having family, and a home, you’d think I should be indebted for.

But I am not existing, just sentient.

I may feel the world around me, but I am not living in it.

I seal my eyes shut and sleep the strain of the day away, but does it ever really escape me?

I feel as I’m fleeing from the truth, fleeing from the fact I am not living life the way I’d expected to.

Fleeing from hardship, and heartache. Fleeing from conflict and strife.

To quarrel about money, to feel like a burden to survive.

Am I really even living?

Am I just an inevitable tax to the government?

Or am I truly frolicking? Feeling cold sand on my feet, feeling wind in my hair, and sea at my ankles.

Is this life? Or am I just clinging to life itself?

#FeatureMe