pick up the phone
I have no idea what to do or think or, who to text message. Everyone on the text machine is avoiding or ignoring me, presumably because I'm so fucking sad and boring and/or they have (better) plans. I smoked medical weed in my parent's basement because I've regressed horribly in life. This is 2006 all over again, only this time it has about as much charm as a dead dog. This weed has only exacerbated my negative feelings, it was supposed to have the opposite effect. Is this the Irma of existential crisis'. A shout out to Acaciac's cousin who is attempting to ride out the hurricane in Jacksonville with her two kids. All the best to them. No prayers though. Prayers aren't real or good for anything.
I really, actually doubt that I can do this. There is a tangible weakness in my muscles and nerves that I can't describe. It can't be that many notches above comatose.. ness, frankly. Unsure about how much I have left to offer.
Yeah, I gotta sleep this off.