Pull myself out of the void every time I wake up. I lose myself every day. Sleep my mind away. Somewhere I’ve forgotten how to mean the things I say. I’d tear my own tongue out and never speak again just to feel anything. If I believed in rapture, my life ascending, I’d live in fear that my consciousness was neverending. Spoiled. Meaningless life after death. Breathe, draw in death with every breath. Euthanasia.