Feels like I woke but the dream never ended, just shifted the angle and dimmed all the colors

Every desire that once had a meaning now flickers like static and dies in the gutters

I used to believe there was more than the surface, a reason, a pattern, a hidden design

Now it's just echoes of thoughts I recycled, decaying inside of a loop in my mind

Days overlapping like copies of copies, the faces keep changing but nothing is new

Names get replaced and emotions get traded like currency nobody values as true

I tried to hold onto a version of purpose, but purpose dissolved when I looked at it close

Now I just move like a body instructed, no fire, no spark, just a mechanical ghost

Everything fades and collapses to silence, no matter how hard you pretend it is real

All of your dreams are just temporary glitches that time will erase and existence will seal

Say what you want about meaning and heaven, I said two words and belief disappeared

"Death of a child" - say it out loud, and suddenly nothing divine can be feared

God was a concept I held like a crutch when the chaos was closing its hands on my throat

But pressure reveals what was never constructed, just stories we tell so we don't lose control

You strip it away and you're left with a question that no one can answer without turning blind

If there was a watcher, then why is there silence engraved in the core of our lives?

People evolve but it's more like corrosion, their morals dissolve into convenient shapes

Truth is adjustable, pain is negotiable, empathy dies when it slows down the pace

Everything cycles but nothing progresses, it's motion without any change in direction

A loop of existence that feeds on illusion and punishes every attempt at reflection

Everything fades and collapses to nothing, but nothing is all that is waiting ahead

Not even darkness or rest or oblivion - just the removal of all that you said

All of your memories fracture and scatter, identity bleeds till there's nothing to hold

You don't even vanish - you simply stop being, like something that never was told

Every time I thought about ending the cycle, something inside of me pulled me away

Not out of hope or a promise of healing - just curiosity begging to stay

How much lower can this even go, how much deeper can suffering stretch?

What is the limit of breaking a person, how far can existence still wrench?

Where is the bottom?

Where is the edge?

Every descent just reveals another ledge

Every collapse is a step, not an end

Every "I'm done" is a lie you extend

Everything fades but the question remains like a scar that refuses to ever release

If there is nothing beyond all this suffering, why does it never just grant you that peace?

You keep on breathing not driven by purpose, not driven by faith or a reason to try

Just held by a question that rots in your chest - how much worse can it get before you die?

And maybe the answer is there is no bottom, just layers of loss you have yet to endure

No final collapse, no definitive ending, just cycles repeating, relentless and pure

So I keep existing, not living, not dying, suspended in something I cannot define

Not chasing a future, not fearing an ending - just watching existence erase me in time