I don't want anything anymore. I am giving up. I am too naive, too credulous; tell me anything, I'll drink up and swallow your every word and cling to them like biblical truths (strange simile, the bible has always been a point of doubt for me, whatever.) It must stem from a deep unconscious love, mustn't it? To always see the best in people, isn't that just a display of profound hope in humanity? (Cringe.) A coping contrivance maybe; paving a sheltered path from here to the end. Oh god throw your fucking storms at me, I don't even care anymore, maybe a storm would wash away the grey, grey, grey; the mundanity, the boxes Plath says 'are only temporary' and yet seem to long overstay their welcome. I look at Crimea, Ukraine, Syria, Palestine and I am utterly helpless, hopeless, insignificant and flattened, how can we be expected to ever get out of bed again? Even here in my own safety net I declare war every morning, on myself, on my mother; my mother who fights her wars with a vengeance so stark it must only come from love.
I come from nothing at all, the loneliest place in the world is the one in which we are needed by no one and I am fading and fading. Please remind me; I exist.