Twentieth...

 
Dear God.

You know what? I'm fucking damn angry!!! And it's my fault... my fault for hoping uselessly... my fault for trying hard for things that can't be changed... my fault. I'm not gonna try again. This is my punishment. Am I being made fun of? Really? Well, that's my fault too. I'm gonna go back.
No crying. No feeling depressed. I used to be good at making the impression of everything going right. I also managed today. This is how it's supposed to be. Noone will give me what I want. I want too much. I want things that don't exist in this world. Who cares. I'll live through it. I always did. And the last three years... well, someone got lucky here. And it finished.

I know you understand. Well, most of the people understand too, why else would they do the things they do? Hope you are well, my non-existent willow.
your better-not-be-trying-too-hard me