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Writer's pictureDwan L. Hearn

...I'm lost.

I don't even know why I'm bothering. I don't know why I even opened this stupid laptop. I'm lost. I'm depressed. My "best friend" doesn't seem to care about me all of a sudden. I feel so distant from everyone. My wife, my kids, my family - that's a whole 'nother conversation - , my friends.


I feel like a burden to everyone. I feel as if nothing I do matters. I don't make a difference. I doubt I ever have. I just ...


...what's the point?


Shit, no one will read this because... why would they? I'm a horrible writer. I'll never amount to anything in this field or any other.


I've tried my damnest to be positive and to spread that positivity. I've worked hard to be encouraging. Why? What does it matter anymore?


To be murdered right now would be a blessing. My family could grieve and move on. They don't need me. The kids don't need me. My friends are clearly better off without me. I am the moon. A singular stone in a void. My only purpose - to revolve around others. To be alone, desolate, and isolated. It just needs to be over quickly. No Heaven. No Hell. No Pearly Gates. No fire and brimstone. Just void. Just nothingness. I want the dark. I want the cold. I want to be nothing.


I failed you, whoever may encounter this. I'm remorseful. Don't bother to hate me. I hate me enough for all of us.

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