Something in me is not letting me be in love with this life.
Something I cannot describe won’t let me live.
It’s not letting me be alive.
So I suffer between death and existence, fully knowing I won’t experience how it feels to be so loved that I’d never fear death.
I am a paradox.
I keep imagining something unimaginable — something that makes me sad.
I want to live and be content,
but I want and seek things that make me wish I was never born.
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