The way I feel, I ought to be able to churn out at least five pages of emotionally charged, painful gripes about life and existence easy. Not like, five paragraphs tops that I do. Usually closer to one or three, short ones at that. My stamina is atrocious.
I already feel like stopping and giving up.
Yeah that feels like enough.
Why am I this way. I don’t like being so alone and the trash of the universe.
Computers make me weak. I want to wrestle bears.