sunny boy books

I don’t think I can go on. Life has become meaningless. My mornings are a personal bed for daydreams about death and nights plaqued with nightmares of the same; a neverending cycle of just constant disappointment and longing. Like a guinea pig stupidly running in the wheel of life that seemingly gets me nowhere. The only escape is to destroy the wheel. To destroy this life. Death will become my salvation.