everything's plastic, we're all going to die sooner or later, so what does it matter.
i don't want to see anyone. i lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. whatever is happening to me is my own fault. i have done something wrong, something so huge ican't even see it, something that's drowning me. i am inadequate and stupid, without worth. i might as well be dead.
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