I don’t know what to say.
I don’t wanna be a cry-baby, but thinking about shit makes me cry. Admitting shit makes me cry. I don’t wanna tell you I’m lonely. It feels like a failure, like I’ve lost in something. Like I’m a loser for admitting it. But it’s true. It’s fucking true. I’m an idiot. I’m mean to myself. Wish I could just be a winner or something. Wish I could accomplish something. Wish I could live in a fairytale, in the happy ever after part.