So many tidbits of my conversations today are so telling about my current situation that they need little further explanation.
“Nothing is okay, so I don’t want to hear the lie that it is. I’m never going to get over him or ever see another drummer the same way. Or anyone else for that matter. And it’s not fucking fair that he gets to keep going on living and I don’t.”
“It’s whatever. Today I don’t care about ever getting a licence anyway. Nothing is okay today. At all. And I wish the 690 days whatever were done. But I’m a person of my word so i’ll wait.”
There was general other mourning of the exhaustion and sickness that plagues my entire life. I don’t care about dinner, I don’t care about a godamned thing and I just want to lie down with pills and Bojack Horseman and not wake up anymore. I’ve been this way since I was at least 7, and if I was ever strong, I’m weak and I’m so fucking tired. I swear, I’m older than 20, everything about this is sad. the pain is excruciating today and I don’t have the energy even to go outside and smoke.
What’s the point? Of anything? I just want to die.