I wish it was easier to not be bothered by blank pages… But it’s not. Especially when your mind keeps ratting out on you just until it convinces you to write something, anything so that this page wouldn’t look as empty as how your eyes are looking lately. I’ve been so empty. Probably because I’m done with all the crying. And we all know what that means, time for a void to settle in. How fucking surprising, right? I know… I knew. I just thought it’d arrive sooner and leave immediately, before December, before my birthday, before Christmas. Because last year, this was present. This was everywhere. And that birthday was the worst. I just don’t want to feel this anymore, okay? I’m so tired of all the shit I put myself through. And like the fool I am, I still keep placing myself in the middle of the storm anyway.