This state of suspend oblivion presents itself to me now; an hour ago; a year ago. The lack of feeling, a thrust of emotions I recognize it by, when I become to tired to fight
it off. I try, I truly do if only for the few who may love me.

I just wonder if its worth it to get up in the morning when, the night before, you hoped with all your heart not to wake. Forever dream.
My pride is scarred by the tears I have cried. The scars on my body. Self pity? Can I give myself that much credit? I think not. This oblivion, I think have washed me
out, but I’m too lazy to think about it.
It’s suspended, its constant. I don’t know. Obviously. This spiderweb is so silent and treacherous, but I’m too busy to be occupied by it.

By Hateful Tears

Yeah nothing interesting here.