It's funny- I was just turning my backpack upside down for paper and found nearly none. Just a pile of notebooks filled and set aside, and what do I have to show for it? JACK SHIT. It's fucking pathetic at this point to still be chasing dreams.

All I do is write and I see no improvement.

I WISH I WAS DEAD, BUT THAT WOULD ONLY REMIND ME THAT I DON'T DESERVE AND WILL NEVER HAVE A PLACE AT FOREST LAWN!

I MAY BE DONE WITH THIS DIARY.

Yes
No
Do nothing