There are days that I seriously wonder why the hell I keep trying.
It’s one of those days.
For the good things that will come in the future?
Yeah, right. Judging by how many good things have come my way already, I should have thrown in my towel years ago.
Come on then. Bring on the good stuff. I am already out of here mentally. I might be out of here literally unless something good happens. I am not referring to dreams or swaps or reading books or meeting with friends. I am talking about something tangible, practical, happening in real life. I am one step before I collapse and decide I don’t want to get out of bed anymore, because there is no point whatsoever.
Do something. There has to be something more to life than eating, bathing and dragging myself from one meaningless chore to another.
I am sick of this so-called life.
I am sick of everyone and everything.
There must be something I am doing wrong.
Some clue I have missed.
This can’t be real.
I feel dead,
And even as I write this I know nothing is going to change. It's personal, isn't it?
Yes it is.
Here is some Ian Somerhalder because it's a better option than taking pills and slitting my wrists or something equally melodramatic and stupid.