ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛᴜᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

I'm dying conceptually…

Actually, I think I'm already conceptually dead. I'm not the same person I used to be. I no longer have the same pride I once had, at least not the pride I could see in myself. Now I'm just trying to maintain a shadow of what I once was, but it simply doesn't make sense. I'm supposed to give a presentation whose deadline is tonight. 

... But I don't think I'll make it; I haven't even received a message from the organizers, if they even accepted the topic. And in the context of my final project being rejected… I'm experiencing a sustained emotional low. Suddenly, the little desire I had to do things has vanished. I think, what if I end up failing completely? What if I can never get back up, what if I can never achieve subjective glory? I see myself more in dark and impoverished settings, snooping around for whatever I can find.

I don't even feel like writing, you know? I don't feel like doing anything, just sleeping and hoping that somehow it will be an eternal rest without pain or much glory, simply a disappearance. But I just don't know why everything is going so against me.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

I don't want to... do anything.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

I don't want to... think about anything.

✡

Seriously. I wish I could take a break right now, but I'm trapped in a mandatory routine. The downsides of living with my mother in a small house where I can't create a mental refuge somewhere isolated, because unfortunately, the situation is so bad that I don't even have my own room. It's common for me to see myself as a failure; damn it, I should be independent by now. Sure, I'm still studying, but it's the end of my studies. And all I can do is overthink and want to rest, but I can't. The heat runs through my skin in patches; I don't like it because it gives a feeling of coolness, like a breeze, but it's just heat in disguise. And it makes me feel even stickier.

(ﾉ･_-)☆

I think I'm going to sneak off to bed for a bit. I just can't stand this lack of motivation anymore.