Dear Nobody™,

Seriously, what is this life for?
I'm so tired. Nothing's really worked out. I really wanted it to, but I guess I didn't quite understand how to go about it, and being riddled with depressive anxiety for most of my life made it impossible. I still tried, though; went on stage a few times, performed, though I was practically shittin' myself through it all--the anxiety would go through the roof. Still, I did it. And people would say, "you seemed fine". And concentration, focus was the bane of my existence. I couldn't. My body would hurt when I sat long enough trying to write something, trying to compose. Now I'm stuck in my ripe years still working jobs I don't really, actually want to work, just to pay the bills, just for some pocket money. I couldn't fulfill my dreams. None of them. The stars in my skies have gone dim. And I'm so unbelievably tired, and alone.
Today I found out someone who lived in the same housing cooperative I lived in back in the 90s passed away late May; she was 59. What a wonderful person she was; I read her obituary and smiled because she'd really lived a full, adventurous life. I would gladly have traded expiration dates with her. There's no reason to carry on, yet I keep slogging on, day after fucking day. I just want to sleep. And fade.