I can’t fucking write today.
I am on Document 16. SIX-TEEEEEEEEEEEN.
Every time I think I’ve got something, I delete it for fear that somebody somewhere will READ IT. Because nothing is any good. It is all, simply, fucked.
Bees? Nobody gives a fuck about bees! Why’d I even read all that stuff about bees in the first place? That was fuckin dumb.
How about some emotional trauma? Existential pain that my goth soul needs to purge like a bad sandwich? Nope. I’m all out of goth soul and Hot Topic burned down.
I can’t even count on my anger. I don’t want to punch anyone! Or trip them or snap their necks and rattle their bodies like limp birds. I am as boring as CNN or tea cups. I am as boring as Christmas evening.
I just shut down Word. It seems wrong to keep killing documents.