I’ve been on the treadmill for 56 minutes running as hard as a could. I listened to every angry song on my iPod and cried. And cried. And cried. I’m sitting here dripping sweat, smelling like a dirty sock admitting I’m a fake. I’m not strong. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of bullshit. I’ve been kidding myself. It will never matter who I am, how much money I make, what I drive, how successful I am. Nothing matters—ever. I’ve been chasing an unobtainable dream. What have I ever done in life to deserve to be happy? Right, nothing. All the money, all the awards, great jobs, great friends— they mean nothing when you have no one to share it with. I’m hitting the shower, maybe I can cry some more in there.
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