Summertime depression is a pretty constant event throughout each summertime of my life. For some reason, each summer, as the weather gets warmer I start to feel totally fucking shit. And I hate life. And I hate that everyone is outside, in my face, enjoying life. And I hate that people have people to be with, and things to laugh about and that everyone stays out late so I have to wait for ever for the park to empty so I can OD and hopefully die.
I’m pretty sure this is the time the police started to know who I am, and my file started to form in a filing cabinet somewhere in the station in the “these people are batshit crazy and dangerous” section.