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.