Sunday, December 31

12 months inside nothingness is the best way to describe the last 12 months. LIke no need to pick up the phone or make eggs or even get out of bed, just spill the tea on the sheets and let it dry, put your gown on top of it, so that you don't feel it in the night, like you pissed yourself and just left it there to seep through for eternity. Why is this so fucking hard lately, cause everything means something else, everything needs to be something, to represent something, everything is something else, i have found writing so hard, cause the moment I write, I think is this fucking good enough is this fucking good enough for fucks sake, I do not want to think, I do not want to think anymore, LOBOTOMY, yes, I just want to be, to do, to exist. It is just head lice.

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