I have nothing to say anymore.
I refuse to dwell on what could've happened
And what did happen.
But now I have nothing to look forward to.

My days have become a routine, a chore.
Most days I wish to do nothing more then just lay in bed and sulk.
The things I used to love to do,
No longer do so.

I'm tired.
A kind of tired that can't be fixed by sleep.