Now that A to Z is over, I feel like I have nothing left. Nothing inside me. Nothing to say. Nothing to write. I feel goalless… aimless… pointless. And I hate it… not only because I don’t know what to do with myself when I sit here staring at my laptop, but also because I think it’s making me think too much about everything that’s going wrong in my life.
And I do mean ‘going wrong‘ in the present tense because over the past two days, things have gotten worse. I know… I didn’t think it was possible either.
I’m going to need to sell my soul because I need the money to fix my car. And for fifty million other things that have been piling up. But wait… no one wants my soul. It’s black and shriveled up like a raisin. Soon it will be completely dried up and will turn to dust. Poof.
Besides, I’ve begun to think that I am already in hell. I am actually a dead person and this is my hell. If I start hearing country music randomly or people don’t know what I’m talking about when I mention cheesecake or Chris Hemsworth, I’ll know I’m right. I have been feeling pretty warm. Must be the burning flames of The Underworld.
Until I’m actually fried to an appropriate level of crispiness, though, I need something in my life (or afterlife) that isn’t torture. Because all I have right now are torturous things. I guess that defines hell, though, right?
Fuck. I am screwed!
©2018 what sandra thinks