Empty

I feel like I've gone back in time. Like I've reached a point where everything I thought I had fixed, is broken again. A point where everything was wrong. A point that I thought I had left behind, moved on from.

But it's like I'm back. Like I never really left. The journey till now has been a sham, a lie, an illusion, a waste. Because I never really moved on from that point. I followed all the steps, did everything like I was supposed to, made all the choices, took all the shit; all for naught.

I never left. And every single day since then has just been an attempt to escape, to leave, to survive.

Now I feel like I should never have tried. That now, I should just stay. And accept things the way they are - broken, wrong, diseased. I'm tired of trying to leave and move on. I don't have the strength anymore. I do not want to continue mending and dealing.

Maybe it's time to just stop. And accept that things were never mine to change. That my life was never meant to be whole.

That all I have to call mine are empty letters, broken poems and an incomplete future.