The weekend hits and I feel spikes of despair and longing, missing my failed friendships.
It’s so hard to endure pain in isolation. I feel no connections to anyone, as if I might as well not exist.
I find myself repeating, “I hate my life,” to the tune of Pinocchio’s I Got No Strings. Fitting, having no connections anymore. Sing it with me, everybody!
I hate my life
I hate my life
I hate my life
I hate my life
I hate life
I hate my life
I fucking hate my life
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