a murmuration of starlings

I am…I am very, very tired, and very defeated, and I don’t want to fight anything anymore. My mother’s broken, my father’s broken, my brothers are selfish, I’m a disappointment to everyone, and I…am very tired. I just would like my mind to break, to set me free of this. I don’t mind madness; it lets you be fooled that everything can continue as it is and the car you’re in isn’t heading straightforward into a concrete pillar at 200km/h. When impact occurs, if your mind is already broken, you don’t even feel it.

Hope really is a fine killing thing. A slow, fine killing thing.

Literally the only thing that might fix all this is a lotto win. It all comes down to money. Even health can be bought with enough money. It’s vile to the extreme.
Unfortunately, none of us have any.

I’m too tired to be disgusted by that fact. I’m just too tired for anything. Golden hour passed like a dream and the sun has gone.

At least I had the dream, I suppose.