- I'm tattooing this year into my brain so I never forget how much it tried to break me.
I’m just shouting into the void here because the four walls of my room have heard enough.
The only thing that’s keeping me sane is the sheer mathematical probability that things have to swing the other way eventually. If life has the range to feel this soul-crushing, absolute shit, then logic dictates it has the same capacity to be fucking incredible. You can’t have a canyon this deep without a mountain to match it somewhere. If the lows are this loud, the highs better be deafening. I'm staying sane on spite.
Revenge is a life well-lived, but spite-fueled hedonism sounds way more satisfying right now. If I survive this year... one of the worst years of my life, I’ll make sure the next one is a fucking party! I can’t fucking continue to sob, I’m so so done. Fuck you, 2026! I hate you! I hope a year like you never returns! You’re a disappointment.