Every day is a gamble whether the mirror shows the dashing hero of our story or the massive waste of essence.
So there’s a slight chance that I’m an asshole and I gave up a chance because I’m a failure that doesn’t have his license and is equal parts desperate and frightened of the possibility that another living being on this earth could actually find me remotely attractive.
I’m not just not ready for a relationship, I’m not ready for life.
I should just give up on believing in love. It’s not that I don’t believe it exists, it’s that I know I’m unworthy of it.
At least being alone is almost cheap. Maybe I’ll just move into a cabin in a secluded wood and hope my life has just been the exposition to a horror movie.