Foolish.

Fuck being sick.


Now I just want to die.
I haven't accomplished a damn thing. Not a damn thing. I recall all of the opportunities in my life where I was asked to participate or apply for something, and I always thought:

Too much time
I'm not going to get it
They aren't going to like me

And guess what?
It is because I don't like hearing the bad news of, "No- you're not what we are looking for," or "Sorry, but we will keep you in mind."
And I am a fool. A god damn fool for all of the shit I have passed up.

I could probably be a prominent writer.

Instead I am sitting in my room with the blinds down and tears rolling down my cheeks.

It's too late.

I'm going nowhere. And I hate myself for being so foolish.

Hej hej,

Any