Permutation

Why is it such a struggle for me to do something as fucking simple as get out of bed in the morning?

Today was a waste. I got nothing done and I barely felt alive. I shuffled through the day like a shadow-zombie; everyone and everything around me seemed to be moving way too fast. I couldn’t keep up.

I’m wincing with every word I’m typing here; I know I’ve said all this before in various ways. This entry is a redundant permutation. My mind has become a redundant permutation. I’m paralyzed  by my own thoughts. They’re always the same. They’re never positive.

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