If I were to ever describe my mind, I’d explain it as chaotic but speechless. Not 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 words but 𝒐𝒖𝒕 of exasperation and exhaustion. This is a feeling that you’re familiar with, these are the lines that you will relate to, because what are we if not an outcome of assorted trauma and distress. You will suffer with me while reading this melancholia I serve you ever so shamelessly. Just like an artist, who creates their best work on medication, words rush through my fingers only when my heart aches and when my being has reached its peak of pretense, where I can no longer be delusional. Pain is my drug, mourning is my medication. Do you feel how I inject it into your bloodstream as well?