Things are things
And no one cares
I’m thirty years old and this is the second time in my life that I’ve had to chose abject loneliness because it was the better of my two options.
If only anyone else could hear the little kid voice in my head saying “I don’t want to,” over and over about it
Other times, I don’t want them to.
Eff, I’ve been in a bad mood for like three weeks now. Idk but Friday, December 21st, I remember being in my bathroom just bawling. Like, no one specific reason, it just seemed like what I needed to do.
I guess nothings new. If they are, then it’s just through the process of worsening.
The only thing in my life that actually makes me happy is writing. There’s other stuff I’m grateful for but like not actively happy about, if that makes sense. Like simple shit. I get I’m super lucky that I can walk and see and live in a time and place that has antibiotics and vaccinations, but like….I fucking CANT play the “at least” game anymore. I had/have to do it too much.
It’s actually very painful knowing what you want in life when the last time you were remotely close to it, you were being fucking lied to