20 december 2018
I am only being held to reality by the tiniest sliver of a thread made out of hope. I'm hanging over a black hole; if I fall, there is no comfort in hitting the bottom and being done with life. No, no. Time slows down the more I fall, and I just suffer inching closer and closer to the black hole, yet never hitting the bottom.
My brain just gave up a long time ago. It will take something far more different than medication to fix this. I need physical contact, someone to think about as motivation to not disappoint.