From my phone at least
I wanted to start writing. I failed.
I wanted to be a better father. I failed.
I wanted to be a better husband. I failed miserably.
I wanted to be a better colleague. I failed.
I wanted to take care of my body. I failed.
I wanted to read more. I failed.
Over the last 6 months all I’ve done is fail pathetically. My level of anxiety and depression are reaching new lows. It’s nobodies fault but mine. I just don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to improve or get out of my own way. Getting old isn’t for the weak I’ll tell you that. I’m so very alone and it’s all my fault - I have absolutely 0 charisma or charm anymore - I’m barely interesting and often just a boorish slob of a human. I treat everyone with contempt and disdain and it brings nothing back to me but loneliness and hostility.
Anyway - I wrote today. That’s a good start. Maybe I’ll write tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be different. Maybe I’ll do something great.
