How is it that we can feel lifeless and yet be full of life at the same time?

Why do I still smile when all I yearn to do deep down is die?

A blunt, revealing question that I'm sure we've all asked ourselves.

But no matter how many blunts I smoke nor alcoholic beverages I consume, I can't ever get to that permanent place that happiness should be taking up.

Instead my heart is so used to being heavy that all along, I've never been happy. It's became such a fantastical act that every day I'm screaming internally for a infinite encore.

My head pounds from all the noise, yet it's so quiet.

So quaint is it inside my head that I've began to call my own beaten pride a blissful balcony that looks over the oceans endless curves.

Ive always listened to adolescent boys talk about how curves were the best feat a female has, but no matter how many times I look at mother nature's curves, all I want is to ponder deep into the dangerous depth that is the ocean.

But perhaps, instead of returning, I could start anew, under the riptides roar.

Maybe it'll swallow me whole, taking it's time like a baby's first swim.

I'm not sure I'd fight it.