It’s been too long.

How easy it is to feel badly. To let yourself go into that place

When you want so much, but have so little motivation.

You begin to blame yourself. Maybe others. Maybe a combination, that it began with them but now it’s just you.

And I should probably just be saying I, because it might not be relevant to you.

I can’t succeed. Most of me doesn’t want to, and everyday I tell myself today doesn’t matter, because tomorrow I will make myself not be here. I will make myself irrelevant. I will kill myself. But tomorrow comes, and I haven’t.

I’ve become addicted to procrastination. Sex. Love. Cigarettes. Vices that make me forget for a moment that I’m truly not okay. And I’ve never been okay. And I don’t know how to be okay. It wasn’t my fault in the beginning, the pathways of my mind were molded by my father, but it’s my fault now, right, because I should be better. I see what I need to do. I try a little, enough to get by. And maybe it’s still his fault. It is actually.

Nevertheless, the blame is insignificant when there needs to be change.

I’ve been fucked up too long; I’ve been fucking myself up long enough.

I’m broken.

I’m a challenge.

I’m incomplete.

But there is all the time in this messed up world. And maybe I’ll finally find my happiness, if I let myself.

Stop trying. Don’t think anymore. Just fucking get out there and do it, you deserve it.