I don’t think I’m good at writing.
Sometimes I feel like everything I write is just pure crap.
There are days when I feel so stupid and I just want to quit trying.
That’s the reason why I haven’t posted for so long.
I don’t know.
Maybe it was depression.
Maybe it was the bed never wanting to let go of me.
Maybe there was an invisible elephant on my shoulders.
Maybe it was all in my head.
I loved the elephant in the room so much that I wanted to keep it to myself.
It doesn’t make sense.
It doesn’t have to.
Because I don’t care.
This is not finished but I’m going to post it anyway.