Tick. Tick. Tick.
Another day lying in bed. Staring at the clock. Seconds ticking away. Minutes ticking away. Hours ticking away. Everything feels heavy, like gravity reversed. I can not get up. Through the curtain, sunshines come in, but they are not of any help in trying to get up. Things just don’t matter anymore and nothing makes sense. I’m such a loser. All I’m good for, is to fix mess, to distract, to take advantage from or something. I’m not a person. I’m just a shell, filled with emptiness. Without purpose. Without goals. Without dreams. Without a right to be happy. Without a right to exist.
Nothing or no one can help me. Why should I even try to be around other people? Why should I still try to talk to other people? I am of no use to them, only a burden. And what do I expect of others? That they can help me out of this? I don’t think they can. And it is not fair. Because they should not spend their energy on this empty shell what seems to be me. Why do I even write. Why do I even try? It makes no difference anyway. You have to do it yourself right. So why if you have to do it yourself anyway in the end, why do we feel the need of others around us when we are alone anyway?
Trying to count down the days. Two more weeks, things will be different. Is that supposed to make me happy? Two weeks can be so far away. And I don’t know if things will get better. Does it even matter? I guess not. And it doesn’t change now. It doesn’t change tomorrow.