Do you want to die? Or do you want to not live. Are you afraid of heights?
Or are you afraid of falling. Is it the afterlife you dread when your heart
threatens to quit in the middle of the night? Would you dare to dream if
your longevity was guaranteed? Or do you just want to feel safe in never
exposing yourself.

It is 4pm on a lazy Thursday afternoon and boredom is crawling up your
walls. The cars outside make hell of a noise but your mind is particularly
blank. Empty of all chaos but full of organized, gripping morbid thoughts.
So you lie on the floor and stare at yourself through the eyes of a tired
man. You see nothing. You see someone fighting not to fight, not to
struggle. You take a tour into the person that you are, carefully picking
apart the layers of negativity and falsehoods as you make your way towards
the truth that undoubtedly lies underneath, your heart heavy with
anticipation. Saliva drips from your pores like a dog waiting for a chunk
of meat to devour. You cannot wait to prove yourself wrong. But after
cracking the code of the last safe door to your heart of hearts and
stepping inside your filthy of filthiest, it is only disillusionment that’s
waiting to greet you. Nothing.

There is no box of past trauma or misfortunes. There is no box of hidden
talents. There is no red curtain behind which mental disorders play chess
with each other. There just is a large, cold and empty metal room. There
is no explanation why you are the way you are. You just are. No crippling
heartbreaks, no personal tragedies. No emotional scars or physical wounds.
Everything is clean as should be. Everything is empty.

So, forgetting the maze that you had to course on your way here, you simply
kick yourself out with the swift motion of a skilled hitman. You land on
the floor beside yourself, now reeling around in the middle of a panic
attack.

You watch silently as you take heavy breaths and beat yourself to sanity,
because you know nothing is wrong with you. But you do not help yourself
either. Instead you leave him lying on that Persian rug and go away, far
from yourself.

There is nothing wrong with you, but you are still falling apart.

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