And I would give it all away.

I find myself almost unable to care.  Other people depend on me and that is their mistake.  Their failure.  Their fault.  Finals are coming up.  I haven’t studied.  I have a massive anatomy lab final tomorrow.  I haven’t studied.  I want to sleep.  I want to run away.  I want to be free for just one more moment in my god-forsaken life.

I will never be free.

From now on, my time is not mine.  My life is not mine.  I question my choices until this point and I wonder if what I’ve done is right, if it’s the right thing for me and for them and for everyone and what if it’s not?  What if it’s not?

There’s always time to change.  I can’t change.  I don’t know what else to be. 

My failures are crushing me and I can hardly breath through the worry and the stress and the regrets, oh my god the regrets.  I should have, could have, would have, but can’t now because it’s too late and it’s been too late for so fucking long…

I don’t know what to do.

I confess myself at an utter loss.  Now I feel it, the empty air beneath me, waiting for the plummet because there’s no one there to catch me.

My strength is my weakness and I am a slave to a ruthless master. 

But there is not one person on this goddamn planet that gives a fuck.

It’s not that I’m too offended by it, oh no, I’m selfish and self absorbed, too.  I know what it’s like, I know how it feels to look down on others for being weak and pathetic.  I know that.  I’ve done it.  I still do it because they are not my responsibility.  But it’s so ironic in these days of self-esteem and self love and friendship and support that I can be so utterly alone.  And I don’t care.  I don’t.

Who the fuck am I kidding anymore.

I’m too normal to be anything else.  Too normal.

Fuck it.  This is all garbage.  All of it.  Fucking waste of space, just like me, like us, like THEM.  And who am I to judge when I can’t even do this?  It’s not hard.  It’s so fucking easy and I can’t do it.  I can’t do anything.  Garbage.  It’s a nice word.  Rubbish.  It’s true.  But words can never be true can they?  Can they?

This is the rise and the fall.

What a wonderful caricature of intimacy.