If somebody asks me to describe myself then I will say, “I am a blue ocean of hope.”
You know why? Because I hope wildly.
I hope that someday bruises on my arm will put me in some kind of tremendous pain that I crave for. The slight or bitterly deep gashes of the blade are normal now. They don't hurt me anymore, neither they soothe my inside suffering. I want some massive hurt for relief.
I hope that someday I will be strong. Strong enough to deal with every desire of my nous, strong enough to leave everything behind me. At the present moment, my mind is brimmed up with the thoughts of giving up. I want to go so far away from where nobody will be able to get me back.
I hope that someday I won't choose death. However, I choose it every day, over the beauty of life, over the moments of happiness, over the hope of living. I don't want to choose it because I'm tired now. One-sided love always gives pain. I want death to choose me and I know, someday she will. Until then, I will keep choosing it over and over, every day.