I always had this fantasy of an undying love that would follow me for the rest of my life. The death of that fantasy has been so unbelievably painful for me. I don’t believe I can have it, and it kills me inside.

Started feeling mostly numb to stuff. I don’t cry as much. Except when I think about possibly dying alone… but like… why does that make me cry? I like living alone. I don’t know what’s even going on with me anymore.

It’s one of those nights where I wonder why I even exist. And kinda wish I didn’t.

This is not a private account but I don't think anyone other than friends know about it, so good enough for now. I may post ~feelings~ and stuff here in the future.

I’m adjusting pretty well to living alone. Just wish the weirdly vivid dreams of my ex coming upstairs to bed would stop.