TW for suicide, and drugs.

Spare me the usual replies, please. I’ve heard them all.

I’m going to drop Creamsicle off at a friend’s house today.

“Yay!”

Then I’m probably going to acquire fentanyl somehow, and forget that I ever existed.

I’ve considered writing a letter to my friend, the one I’m always talking about. Creamsicle was originally supposed to be a birthday present for them, but they didn’t want him. I’d love for him to go live with them, but I don’t want them to be sad. I think I just want them to forget I ever existed. I know they probably won’t be too sad but I don’t know. I wish I could say goodbye.

Every single fucking day sucks. I am in the same exact hole today, on March 22nd, 2024, as I was on March 22nd, 2023, and on March 22nd, 2022. The only difference is I just keep getting slightly worse every year. Each winter hurts more than the last. More people stop talking to me and I smile less and life becomes increasingly more stupid and meaningless.