It’s Friday night, depression and loneliness reign supreme. I had to get out of my apartment, because I was rapidly drowning in my thoughts, cut off and isolated. It’s ridiculously cold outside for almost mid-April, so I doubt I’ll be able to stay outside for very long, but hopefully long enough to publish this. These weekends are becoming more and more unbearable. From Friday night to Sunday night, the time drags by ten times slower than it does for the rest of the week.
Time to throw on more fucking winter clothes that make me feel huge again to go outside. The only thing even less appealing than the cold is that I’m sure I’ll have to walk past the usual crowd of assholes in the lobby, many of whom clearly don’t like me. I can almost feel their stares behind my back as I leave the building. “There goes the ugly freak again”, they probably say.
I’m sick of this. I’m sick of being alive.