woofwag
Bad dog
- Sep 17, 2025
- 41
You know it's bad when your only emotion that hasn't died yet is the instinct to survive. When your heart keeps beating but it doesn't feel loyal to you, but rather its own ritual of pumping blood over and over and over, like a continuous prayer to a religion you don't practice. You know it's bad when eating and drinking feels like betraying yourself, because to love what's lost is not to love at all, and you've lost the will to live, so why are you feeding something that has nothing left to do now but degrade? You know it's bad when death feels like a kindness. Because at what point is suicide merciful? The body doesn't know the difference between oxygen and helium. It knows to breathe. It knows the process to survive, but even when there's nothing there for it to give to the cells to fuel them, it just keeps doing what it knows to do. But all those cells are starving and the neurons are collapsing. It doesn't panic. It doesn't know better. It doesn't know that it's the last thing left to die.
I'm not the kind of person to think that I'm draining resources from the world by fueling this body. Yet I've never felt thanked by my body for helping; only punished for not doing exactly what it wants. The world feels like one big punishment for daring to exist, and for every battle I win against it, I'm still losing the war. It doesn't feel noble to bear a miserable existence. It feels like I'm the heart pumping the same tired blood, but the difference is that at least real blood is going somewhere, while I spin in circles like a dizzy mouse, sure to someday be caught in the metal snare of whatever trap I wander into. I'm so sick of it that it makes me nauseous. I don't want to keep biting at scraps, darting back into the walls of my sorrow as I wait for something good on the other side to show up, something that isn't a momentary spark of joy, because even those can be dangerous, even the most beautiful things can be full of poison, people who I trust who betray me, dopamine-driven tasks that only leave me more lethargic, drugs that bring me high then lower than before, all the money and sex and fucking piles upon piles of garbage, all of it plastic, all of it trauma, and it won't ever degrade. Not in my lifetime. I can't heal if the world keeps dumping more shit on top all the goddamn time.
You know it's bad when the poison looks better than staying safe within the walls. You know it's bad when safety feels more dangerous than just getting it over with already. Can't we just do more than stay surviving in pain? Can't we just fucking live? Because right now, it feels like the only way out of this pit is a rope that'll take my neck with it.
I'm not the kind of person to think that I'm draining resources from the world by fueling this body. Yet I've never felt thanked by my body for helping; only punished for not doing exactly what it wants. The world feels like one big punishment for daring to exist, and for every battle I win against it, I'm still losing the war. It doesn't feel noble to bear a miserable existence. It feels like I'm the heart pumping the same tired blood, but the difference is that at least real blood is going somewhere, while I spin in circles like a dizzy mouse, sure to someday be caught in the metal snare of whatever trap I wander into. I'm so sick of it that it makes me nauseous. I don't want to keep biting at scraps, darting back into the walls of my sorrow as I wait for something good on the other side to show up, something that isn't a momentary spark of joy, because even those can be dangerous, even the most beautiful things can be full of poison, people who I trust who betray me, dopamine-driven tasks that only leave me more lethargic, drugs that bring me high then lower than before, all the money and sex and fucking piles upon piles of garbage, all of it plastic, all of it trauma, and it won't ever degrade. Not in my lifetime. I can't heal if the world keeps dumping more shit on top all the goddamn time.
You know it's bad when the poison looks better than staying safe within the walls. You know it's bad when safety feels more dangerous than just getting it over with already. Can't we just do more than stay surviving in pain? Can't we just fucking live? Because right now, it feels like the only way out of this pit is a rope that'll take my neck with it.
