My heart is a vacant apartment, but anger is a sloppy tenant.
It's about 500 words towards a book, not 500 words towards a diary. It's fine though - I liked it while it lasted. It felt nice to squeeze something that didn't exist. It was nice, pretending that something good could possibly come out of vomiting my daily build-up of bullshit. But that's enough now. Enough with the games. This is the first one under 500. I'm excited. I hope you are, too.
"End-game" is essentially planned obsolescence. There's only so many toys that your parents can give you before they run out of money. There's only so many rides on the theme park, and only so much time in the day to go on the rides. You can cry all you want, but you're never going to persuade the finitude of the human condition to cater to your demands.
How much work do I need to do to pass? What's the latest date I can hand this in? What's the worst thing that you'll accept? How much do I need to get on this test to get an A? Exactly an A? What's the best I can do in five minutes? Ten? What feels the best? What's the quickest way to get myself off? What's the most exciting song? What's the most popular? What do other people like? What do other people like talking about? What-