Of life.
Everything is one giant headache, blending together.
I don't know whether to scream, or cry, or punch a wall.
I wish I looked different.
I wish didn't think about not having friends. It seems more appealing than you might think. We're born alone, so why shouldn't I die that way? Why should I make someone care about me at all or worry if I won't be here long?
I quit.
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