Sickness
I really don't fucking feel well, man.
It's either I'm alone, or I'm afraid of fucking up, or both.
Evreyone's afraid of fucking up, that's what you're gonna tell me.
So how come everyone and their mother can still live normally?
Is it because whenver they fuck up, they have people to reassure them, "Don't worry, you did your best? The world didn't explode? This is normal? This isn't your fault? This isn't an indelible stain on your motherfucking character and it doesn't mean anything like 'God I wish you were never ever fucking born why do you fuck up so fucking goddamn much? See, now the world's exploded, and it's your fucking fault? Everything you do is grounds for everyone to fucking hurt you? Huh?'"
So I'm ill, right?
I don't wanna get hurt anymore.
Making a mistake is apparently grounds for the pirhanas to leap out at the slightest scent of blood.
I hate doing literally anything anymore.
I used to be an extrovert.
Once upon a time not too long ago I chanced upon the phrase "zest for life".
God.
I wonder what that's like.
It must be heavenly, God.
Why did you put me in hell?
Do you plan on telling me?
What I did to deserve this?
I can't kill myself, God.
Please come up with a better answer than, "People have the right to hurt you if you fuck up."