No title 

I slacked so much last year. And so far this year. Write Bailee. How hard is that? Utterly useless. Screaming inside instead of writing it out. I think today is the first time in a while that I’ve actually thought about dying. Everything just becomes to much. I feel the poet dying. Everything that made me different. I feel empty. How do you keep on after something like that. But even more how do you let go of the hope so you can truly drown.

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