2.8.2000

I was supposed to paint the garden fence but it was raining a second ago so I'm using it as an excuse to sit here and rant about how ill I feel about myself. The worst thing is that I have a completely valid reason to hate myself. If I didn't have that, I could just distract myself. But I feel ill for a reason, and the reason is this: I'm a stupid fuck-up. I am a burden to everyone. I screw everything up, I do everything wrong, I hurt everyone, I bore everyone, I make other people disgusted. (I make myself disgusted. How could there be a more valid reason?)

I'm tired, dammit. I don't want to fight it today. If I can't talk to him, then I won't talk to him, however much I want to talk to him. It's as simple as that. If I can't stand going inside a shop when there are no other customers, then I won't, however much I need the paint. If I can't do anything without feeling ill about myself, then I do nothing.
And I really don't deserve anything, because I'm giving up. I don't care, I don't want to care. I don't want to fight it. I'm sick of it, and it never helps at all. So I fucking won't do anything I'd want to, and I'll never get anything I want to get, as simple as that. That's how the world goes. Accept your limitations. Don't feel bad because of them. Not even if they fuck up your whole life. (Because you're to blame, not them. You just never tried enough.)

Look, I'd really like to be normal and fine and I'd really like to act like you and I'd really like to stop whining and get my act back together and I'd really like to fall in love and get a job and forget all about the bad things normal people never think of.
But I can't. I simply can't. I'm tired of acting like I thought it still was possible because it isn't.

I don't feel like dreaming anymore, B. I'm sorry but I don't.

Back again.