Today, just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that and all the days before that since my last post, I just can't write. It seems that this time there really are no words. And if there are no words, then there's no longer anything to say.
I've been comprehensively defeated.
Roaccutane is causing me enough physical pain to make me squirm. Roaccutane has literally exhausted me. The bags under my eyes are close to, if not actually, three different colours. There is no such thing as enough sleep. The cardio stuffed me round, for lack of a greater explanation, and I still have no answers. Just hand-balled to the next specialist, to see if I have another possible condition. Just to add to the trauma of course. My teachers all basically want me to be more awesome, all the time. I can't do this anymore.
I'm done.
It's over.
No more.
I'm just so wrapped up in my marathon pity party, my own self loathing, hate and madness, and deep sadness and hurt that I can't see the light of day anymore. Just a pitiful gloom.
And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've wasted everyone's time.
- Sky
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