I thought of killing myself multiple times yesterday. I leaned too close to the cars, I walked on the edge of pavements, I touched the wall near the river with my hip. I'm not kidding. No one noticed anything. I will not endure in this world. I wish to leave it and everyone I know, for I am not strong enough to deal with anything. I do not think anything really matters, you just choose something and make it matter, but you secretly know it's all very hollow. And you yourself are hollow.
My own words aren't as important as they used to be. I'm thinking of writing only about characters that are frozen – like frozen birds which the protagonist would hold and keep in his arms but the ice would never melt and he'd have eventually become frozen as well. Then this frozen planet would drain the colour out of every being and it's core would crack – a black, rotten core underneath the ice. This is my vision of the world. This is my vision of myself. Ugliness.