marcela eu sou, morrerei assim, mais cedo do que tarde, como parece a mim

I look at you in the dark and all I see is a fucking smile, as if you  believed you are so much better than me. Am I going mad again? I hate the feeling of using all I can to keep me sane and still being unable to save myself. I hate the feeling of getting dumber as time passes by me and all I can do is getting older and miserably failing to do anything.. I hate the feeling of being a dream, someone's dream (a very lazy mind's dream). I'm tired, doesn't quite matter how much I play the game, how hard I deceive my soul, it will always get me in the end. Who I am will always get me in the end. I'm fucking giving up again...