I thought I could write best when I’m at my worst.
If that was true, words would’ve flooded this blog since weeks before. But no. Nothing comes out. I guess the many times I’ve felt terrible before were nothing compared to how I’ve been feeling lately.
Because this is my worst. I’ve stopped hoping for things to become better. All I want now is to be gone. I don’t want another day, another hour, another minute. I’m so sick of everything.
I thought I could write best when I’m at my worst. But the truth is I can barely breathe.
No, it isn’t just a bad day. Or week, or month, or year.