Once,

It’s 1am and I just got out of the shower, and I am sad. I’m not sad because I had to spend 40 minutes manually copy down a 700+ words psychology essay (which I spent 2+ hours constructing on my mac). I’m not sad because A2 is 84 days away and I have absolutely no idea how I am going to cover the rest of the syllabus (the entire syllabus). I’m not sad because I don’t know what’s going to happen to my life after A levels. Heck, I’m not even sad because it’s Valentine’s Day and it reminds me of you. I’m just sad, the 120th kind of sad. It’s the kind of sad that’s made up of many many little sad moments from 45 lightyears away wrapping their soft sadness around me like a huge ball of cotton candy. I’m the stick that never volunteered to hold them together. I’m the stick that eventually gets thrown away. At least the sadness gets to dissolve away – I wish it could end as easily for me, too. I have to live through being dumped away, kicked around and trampled on, for eternity existing with the awareness that nobody remembers anything about a cotton candy stick.

I am sad.

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