Afraid in the best of ways.

I can't breathe, right now, I'm not sure what's wrong with me. I don't know how people will read this, if they will read it, when, where, who, I don't care. Nothing matters anymore, does it? So, I waste away every minute of my life, used up and stopped up, nothing's coming out. My writing is lacking. My art is lacking. My imagination is lacking. Everything is grey, dull, stupid, I don't want it anymore. I'm terrified of myself. I'm afraid of what I'll do when everything gets bad. I've been known to make horrifying choices, things that f*ck up my life and hurt everyone in every way possible.
I feel like I'm going to explode. And yet, I'm sitting here, eyes wide and thoughts moving a mile a minute. It feels like I should be sprinting my heart out, right now. I'm pushing everyone away. I don't want them, anymore. I don't want them, and yet I need them. Why is that? Even the people in my head have grown silent. They've abandoned me. Or, maybe I've just forced them away, too.
Most of all, I'm horrified that I don't want her anymore. Of course I want her, but as of late, I want every thought of her out of my head. I don't want to think anymore. I hate thinking. I hate it more than I've ever hated. I hate my mind, I hate what it's done to me. It hates me, God hates me, I hate me. Christ, I just wanna wreck myself. I want to feel the debauchery of fumes soaking my lungs, killing me faster than ever. I want to feel the burn of powder dusting my upper lip, I want to feel the terrifying thrill of sprinting barefoot down the street at three in the morning, tasting the raw chill of the earth with every fiber of my being.
I want to feel alive.
I can't take this dead sensation, anymore.
I hate it all, I want it all gone.
I want to be gone.
I don't want to die.
But I don't want to remember living.