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Dear friend,

I don't know what is happening to me. I don't know how to write or even worse I have absolutely no idea how to construct a sentence. It's like my intelligence is being sucked out of my system and I no longer can function normally. I can't write and it's making me crazy. My love for words tops my love for any other human being. I love words, languages, and literature. And do you know how much it hurts me when I can't write. I'm not saying that I was a good writer before. No. All I'm saying that even before I couldn't write as well Jane Austen or Dickens of the sort, I was good at forming a sentence. I can't even tweet. I can't write. I know that I shouldn't be comparing myself with other professional writer but I can't help it. I tried a lot of things but nothing seems to be working. It hurts so much not being able to fucking do what you enjoy doing. Writing is the only thing that can make me really happy and even that is being taken away from me. I am not complaining, I'm so grateful for everything but I'm just so frustrated with myself. I am done.

Benedict,

Oh how I love you so. You don't know of my existence but I love you still. Thanks for making me happy but also fuck you for ruining my fucking life. I am done with you too. Absolutely done. I hope die. I'm kidding. Please get out of my life. I can't handle getting my heart broken by someone who doesn't even know that they're breaking somebody's heart. That's so pathetic. I love you and all I ever wanted is for you to be happy. Go find a girlfriend you bastard. Be happy. Smile more. Don't be an asshole.


I am done.