There’s a sort of weird peace you find in accurately predicting things for yourself. Even if those things are anything but pleasant.
It’s kind of masochistically satisfying to know that you always knew. They weren’t just “bad thoughts” like people like to write everything off as.
That you know yourself (and your life) so well.
Kind of makes you (unfortunately) surer of yourself.
You know how this ends, how you end.
Hope is indeed, the greatest of all evils.
Makes me wonder, why I am still here…
What’s tying me down? Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t ever want to put someone through what I am going through, just to make it easier for myself.
But the question is, how much longer can I sustain?