Nothing I have to say to you means anything, weather I say it to you or to myself or to the ether. I feel like shit just about every second of every day. I’d give just about anything if you’d say anything to me. Tell me you hate my guts. Tell me you never want to see me again, that you’re sorry you ever met me, that I ruined your life, or that you never really gave a shit and I’m just not important enough to deal with. Tell me you’d love to see me to as a puddle in the middle of the highway. Then would make two of us. I just want to hear ANYTHING at all. I’m trying to be understanding. I get that talking to me would probably be the most unpleasant thing that anyone could ever have to do. But it would take less than five minutes. Thirty seconds. “Don’t talk to me ever again.” That would mean so much. I am sick of being a nonperson, and I realize that the rest of the world is sick of me taking up its valuable person-space. Just be patient. I’ll be dead within the year.
Also, don’t comment on this. Just, please don’t.