13,024 Days Alive
1 Bowl of Pasta Eaten
I’m more exhausted than a NASCAR tailpipe right now, and I’m fried from work, so I’ll be quick.
I’m really, really in a dark place right now. I’m having trouble with the mental radio.
I’m not okay. But I’m going to do my best to power through this down slide.
I’m going to go cry myself to sleep.
Take your meds, folks.
2 thoughts on “Of Spaghetti and Suicidal Thoughts”
I’m here for you.
Umm maybe tell suicidal thoughts to go fuck themselves?
Not a therapist, just trying to help.
I like your play with letters . Reminds me of something i tried to do in my own novel, so for that reason i cant wait for you to read it.
You did agree to read and review it … of course it won’t be fully ready and published for months n months…
So you can’t die 🤨
On the other hand, it’s so dystopian, based on real predictions… that it may beat your depression and make you angry ?
Anger beats depression right?
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