mental breakdown chatper 1, vol. 3.
It gets to a point where I go from being the attacker, to the attacked. When people have finally had enough, and want to see just how far they can push things.
I don’t have any poetic verses or witty anecdotes for this one. They all fleeted me, alongside my dignity, a few months ago.
I am a mess. Nothing I could say sounds good enough. I feel stunted. I can’t feel anything but something similar to angst, I am always angry, it feels so trite.
The things I am good at are not those that you should be proud of, and I do not have the motivation to pursue anything worth doing.
