I stand on the edge of my own reality, looking off into the abyss.
There is a comfort in knowing that all things come to an end.
I have grown more weary than I care to admit and look forward to watching the world end.
There’s nothing left.
There’s nobody left.
I’m fresh out of hope.
My tolerance for social opiates has grown astronomically high.
I don’t know who to call out to anymore.
I am the unwanted.
The last of the forgotten.
The first of the forsaken.
This is the day that the unsung has come undone.