I told myself I wasn’t going to post here until I started my short story, but I found an old journal of mine and felt like I should post anyway. I was flipping through it and I was kind of startled at how much I wanted to die. Not because I’m better, but because I have made absolutely no progress. If anything, I’ve gotten worse. I’m more isolated now. I feel things less. I’ve lost any bit of hope I had before.
Damn, usually when I see these types of things, people always say how much better they are, and I’m jealous. I don’t want to […]