The Gravity of Staying

The pain of living is greater than my fear of dying. I yearn to leave this body, this world, but I keep myself chained here— for pain is the only thing I find comfort in. I've killed myself thousands of times—not physically, but mentally. If I am not a corpse, then what am I, other than nothing? I keep trying to feel something, whether it’s pain or fury, just so the world stops crumbling inside me. I am nothing but an aching soul in a living body. The light’s dimmed out, my eyes are empty— I feel nothing but a void. "Help me," I should scream, but I can't. What if I end up alone? Or worse— they see me like I see myself. I tried to be strong, but every time I dream, I dream of being dead. And when I wake up, I cry for it not being real. "Save me," I should say, but there's nothing left to save. All I need is for the suffering to end— but for that, I should end it myself. I should end myself.