「ʙᴜᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ,

ʙᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ.」

Tristan, a good friend of yours, seemed to be in a depressive state. Locking himself from the outside world and not engaging with everyone. He cut contact with that one girl. he never mentioned her all week, even though he was obsessed with her. You find him, in his room, curled up, hiding from the harsh reality. The silhouette of his body from the blanket shows, the bed, floor, desk, everything’s a mess. It’s like he doesn’t wanna do anything except rot away into his own hellfire. His own little cage that he cannot escape. The harsh reality just gripping him until he pops into the void.

Seeing him in such a state… makes you wonder in distraught.

Is this a living Gehenna, or hell? No matter what we do or say, we don’t hold a single choice on our future, leaving us to hate irrationality, and loneliness. How you never have to trust your instincts when it comes to fear, knowing nothing will ever change to its fullest, like the observable universe, and the overwhelming happiness. You shouldn't question them anyway, they wont change a tiny bit. How every night, the tight air flow of your tears clench your throat. Letting you gasp out your emotions like the coward you are, reminding you of the sense of failure, jealousy, and the wireless thread of the future. The biblical DNA we call life is so unfortunate. Because no matter how much alcohol we pour, it will never disinfect us of these pitiful, negative thoughts. Like how reality caves through your lungs, and yet, you still manage to live through all of it.

Because of this pain.

It’s the only thing that bonds us together.

/ref