There’s no reason to put on makeup. I won’t feel beautiful.
There’s no point to leaving the house and going to school.
Who cares if I graduate? If it means I will feel the same way.
I will never amount to anything, I will never succeed, I will never feel fulfilled.
I become anxious sitting in my classes.
Afraid of staying still. Afraid of moving forward.
I want to quit everything, but then I will really have nothing.
And I’m afraid I would give up entirely.
I feel tired all the time, from the moment I wake up.
It would be nice to go back to bed. I feel guilty to be resting.
There are lots of people to talk to, but I don’t think they know how I feel.
It’s a long journey, and I will die alone, as we all do.
I will become a tiny grain of sand in the vast desert of the universe.
And people will miss me, but they will eventually forget, or die, too.
All of our memories are lost with time.