I'm unfathomably tired. I'm done. my chest is tight, I'm angry and sad and scared and annoyed and bored out of my fucking mind. i want to scream, i want to run away, i want to disappear. but what does any of that matter? even if someone heard, even if someone cared, it wouldn't make it any better. the feeling is too deep, twisted up in loneliness and grief that are too overwhelming. I'll still be exhausted, working 7 days a week at no avail while the world continues to grow more and more greedy, trying to bury the darkness in another wasted day of repetition. another day of mindless work and pointless interactions and empty hearts.

you didn't fix it for me, the endless loneliness i was born into. you never did. but having you at my side made it easier. it almost seemed worth it to keep trying.

what's any of it worth now?