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Its officially over half-past 2020. I can still feel my legs. I'm not homeless. I haven't been diagnosed with any terminal illnesses. All of my three remaining family members are still alive. I haven't had any dismemberments. Come on 2020! You wanna get nuts? Lets get nuts!
Come on 2020. What's the matter? Don't tell me you were brave enough to stab me but not enough to twist the knife.
Hurt me more. Don't make it quick. I wanna feel the life drain out of me. Catastrophe by catastrophe. Loss by loss. Make me hold out hope it's about to get better. Find more things I could never imagine losing, and talk me into throwing them away. You sick fucking lamprey.
Its far too late for me to ever love you, 2020. But if you can make sure I don't make it out of you, then you'll have my respect.
Yeah i know this thread's dark. No I'm not suicidal. This is 2020 and let's be honest. I'm just saying the quiet part out loud.
