If guilt were wine, you could say I've been drunk for the most part of the past week. You could even say wasted,I dare say. I have too much to say and no one to say it to. I feel there's no one who could appreciate how I truly feel. Depression sets in like a comfort blanket. For two days now, I've had nothing to blame for it, yet it persists. Damn, I feel helpless. Should I just wait for the ultimate end? Or should I hasten its arrival?
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