Day 240 since nuclear fallout. Diary entry number 168. Time 2:33 AM. Temperature -11 degrees Fahrenheit.

Just cut my fucking neck now. I don’t care anymore. All I have is smothered into nothing, a burnt out flame. Scattered remains. Dead lovers. Thriving evil.

We can’t change the past, it’s not possible. So why do I sit here on this same beach everyday, hoping my past will turn around and fix itself? Because I’m fucking hopeless. This is the part where I give up. This is the part where I realize where I am.

This is the part where I realize who I am.

Just another dead plant. Just another empty can.

Just another soul, lost in the quarries of human nature.