dread

beware the ides of march. --- "julius caesar", william shakespeare

it's always around this time of the month for the past five months --- and, sadly, still counting, because what i think is worthless --- that i inevitably conclude that what we have is a losing proposition.

just before the 11th of every month, instead of being met with a recollection of happy and joy-filled moments, i am confronted with the yawning, lonely abyss of our connection that glows with festering nothingness.

please just kill me and take me from this misery. whenever i try to do anything to save myself, i fail.