Déjà vu

I've been here before.

I've felt like this before.

This feeling isn't unfamiliar to me.

Life moves in circles—I always find myself at the beginning of this never-ending cycle. Living through the same damn thing that makes me feel completely incapable, unfit.

I should’ve ended this a long time ago. But I can’t. Not for myself, but for the others who might bear the cost of my sins—my mistakes.

I want peace.

But there’s a storm inside me, constantly pulling me toward the edge. One day, I might cave in. One day, I might fall into oblivion.

I won’t even be a ghost or a memory in my own story.

I’ll be erased.

Done

I'm lying here awake in a dark room. There's no one else. There's me and my thoughts.

Most of my life, I've spent this way: by myself in a dark room. That's what it feels like to be  utterly and painfully alone. 

When you see yourself in this position, you start to wonder what is wrong. The answer can only be found within ourselves. And, it might not be a good one. That's the case.
I look at myself in the mirror and I can't  see anything eye-catching. I look deep into my eyes to reach my soul and it's empty. The light I should see inside of me, it's long faded, extinguished, gone...
What do I feel? I just feel pain. So much pain, I can't even start to describe it. I just wish to stop this pain. I just wish to seize to exist. I'm done living. I'm done lying. I'm done. I'm finished.