Not to be dramatic but: I think I've lost the will to live.

Live well, at least.

People talk and I listen. Shows come on and I watch them. I paid for a French class and I went. That is simple. But I've actually heard nothing. Enjoyed nothing; learned nothing.

Nothing.

Now everything is murky. I spend most days wishing everyone would just shut the fuck up. Seriously. I've become that asshole. I fake being a nice guy. I pretend to care.

Well, that's not entirely true.

The reason I haven't put an end to David is because, somewhere, I still care. Do care. I just can't muster the energy to it with any kind of consistently. Not for anything.

Still. I brood and bristle with anger at things so small as to be invisible to the normal world. I avoid real conversations and loathe answering questions. Sitting is what I like to do.

Sit and not think about how this all sucks.

The pain.
The family.
The best friend.

I'm afraid to say my ship is adrift in open waters. It's now the time where I either regain my focus and push through the pain. Center myself the way my master taught me or die a intelligent man in America.

Now THAT would be something to get upset about.

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