I wrote another story today. I'm not sure how I like that one, but it's sure as hell interesting. My writing has only gotten better due to me being forced to write so much, but it is killing me, on the inside.
After writing a few pages, I cried myself to sleep. My existence has become void as my friends, family, girlfriend and anything else stopped mattering, against my wishes.
I haven't eaten in so long.
I'm hungry...
I'm scared...
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