My entire existence is pain, it is dreading every second to the next including all the ones past, over and over and over again.
I don’t recognize myself anymore, inside or out.
I am also wiser in the worst ways.
Each year looks less depressing than the current even though I’ve always wanted to die.
Somehow wanting to die a little less in the previous year makes it camouflage as happier times.
I get more withdrawn, more in debt.
More bills more pills, quite frankly I feel ill.
I have become nothing more than an hassle, an inconvenience to everyone who crosses my path.