I don't understand how this happened...it's like something died in me so slowly that I didn't even recognise it until it was too late? I used to love to write and to transpose my emotions into words, but for some time now that's just gone, like the lights are out and it's all cold concrete and the words are starving inside

I don't know why I'm listening on repeat to sad songs and read compulsively about mental disorders and suicide stories. I'm this unstoppable industrial vacuum cleaner that takes in all the emotional pain she can find

I don't know why am I reading my old journals, looking at my old pics and all the stupid memories lurking around and remembering with so much clarity all kinds of sad life events that happened ages ago

I don't know why I feel like I've used all the resources I had, like I've played all my cards. Badly maybe, but hey, it's a game...

I don't know where all the inspiration went, all the love, the awe

Maybe it's just a phase of the journey, but I might be on the wrong train and might never find out

Life in a vacuum - there is no air and no liquid either, all just solid grey concrete blocks. And they are telling me that "this is it". We all live like this.
And when I say, "but I can't live like this anymore", I'm starting to see how most of them are getting further and further, and I'm standing there alone, and it's real, for me it's so real, but then why am I alone?

Maybe it's about trust...in myself

Or maybe, as I've always feared, there is no inherent meaning anyway in all this

And maybe, just maybe, the next stop will be home...