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The only good thing about today is that it's over.
I ache with the pain of a thousand razor blades in my mind and body. I don't want to eat. I don't want to breathe.
And over here, there's immediate praise for someone else's fiction, but none at all for mine after over a month. Not. A. Single. Damn. Comment. Right, then.
Fuck it. This hurts too much. I don't know why I go on living or doing any of the meaningless things people do when they're alive. There's no point to any of it, and I'm so tired I can't even see or think or move straight anymore.
Nothing is worth this. Nothing.
I ache with the pain of a thousand razor blades in my mind and body. I don't want to eat. I don't want to breathe.
And over here, there's immediate praise for someone else's fiction, but none at all for mine after over a month. Not. A. Single. Damn. Comment. Right, then.
Fuck it. This hurts too much. I don't know why I go on living or doing any of the meaningless things people do when they're alive. There's no point to any of it, and I'm so tired I can't even see or think or move straight anymore.
Nothing is worth this. Nothing.
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