Aug 08, 2012
I've officially given up on writing. Might as well start forgetting that dream of being a best selling author and having an awesome penthouse in sanfrancisco... Cuz its never gonna happen. At this rate, I'm nothing but worthless. All I'm good for is complaining and playing videogames. Oh, and getting fat. ******* fat. But that's okay, I'm resigned to that part of my fate. Why did I ever think I could be skinny? I don't think losing weight will work next time cuz the motivation, the sheer loathing of every fiber of my being isn't there so much anymore. I don't hate myself when I look in the mirror anymore, I'm not disgusted... And its not that I'm happy with what I see, its just that I don't give a fukking sh*t.
And about the writing, it was coming--me giving up, that is. No one cares about my writing. No one. I know blah blah blah youre not supposed to care what.other people think, do what you like because *you* want to. Well writing doesn't work that way, at least not for me. I need approval to be worth anything, and no one can give me the time of day without acting like they'd much rather be elsewhere. Maybe its just.me, or maybe my writing really does suck. I have no way of knowing. And it doesn't really matter, since I'm giving up something that I love very much, but simply cannot do anymore. I just can't. There's nothing. My worthless mind is spent. I'm done, and right now I'm much too upset to sleep.................