I’ve been out of the creative game for a few days because existence weighs a billion pounds and even the things I usually enjoy don’t do anything for me. I’ll say this though: at least I’m not huffing air duster and passing out all over the city pissing all over myself, at least my belly is full and I’m sleeping indoors. I can’t seem to do anything like I was before and then I hate myself for being lazy. It just feeds into itself and makes me feel worse.

It just feels like everything is falling apart.

I don’t know I just wanted to write something. I’m not going to give up.

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