Retroactively published in August 2026 before getting rid of the notebook that this was written in.
Resignation. Part of me already is there. The other is still fighting.
Shitty that Rose [a middle-school era friend of mine!] is in the south. But eh, that's life.
Either way, we're all on some sort of belt conveyor that carries us to the end. I will get there. Even if I don't want to accelerate the process. Not anymore. Survival instinct has taken over against my will.
No shortage of pain in life. Just a cruel lack of presence.
Mmh.
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