Refuel Me
The adrenaline has settled and without a tangible form of hope what was left has drained needing to be refuelled. Where has it gone? That motivation to create and care and move. I'm destined to live out my days bundled in childhood blankets, replaying the same games, watching the same shows. Over and over, dying to see myself in the credits. Instead, I'm just lying here, as my body rots whilst my mind lives inside. It plays out fantasies that I just don't have the energy for. I need fuel. I need adrenaline. But I can't handle either. Any more and I might just burn out for good