None of this matters. It’s 9:56 AM and it’s already done. Over. I remember Pretty Words for Ugly Thoughts complaining about setting down to write a short story and hammering out… a few words after a few hours. I know what that’s like now. Sitting there, dead.

I can’t go where they’ll scold me. The authoritarians.

Let’s try not to turn this blog into a laundry list of tasks I have to accomplish throughout the day. That’s not interesting.

What am I saying I’m dead already.

I’m a decaf zombie.

Life is crushing and meaningless.

The depression wins.

I miss you, blog. I miss writing in you and having the privilege of enjoying you. I’m not allowed to be happy anymore, though. So I give up. I give you up.

I’m sorry, blog. I can hear you crying. I’m sorry.

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