I find comfort out here. Just drifting. With the engine off, floating alone.

It’s in these moments I find the comfort suicidal ideation has me seeking.

The comfort of disappearing. As long as I don’t look at my phone, I’m off the grid. Nothing to do. Nowhere I have to go.

For some brief moments, everything is at peace. My mind can unravel. I can slow down.

I can put a song on repeat and get lost in the lyrics. Read a book and get lost in beautiful words.

I just want to disappear most days.

Until I find brighter day, drifting is how I’ll disappear.

Depression for me has been a lot like drifting on open water. I don’t want to go anywhere. I like the calm of staying still. But the dormant ambition in me still wants to go somewhere.

So I cruise mindlessly with no purpose.

I suppose moving towards nowhere beats not moving at all.

All I want to do is drift. And slowly disappear.

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