As the year comes to a close, I thought I’d be a basic bitch and blog about 2018 and everything I’ve done and accomplished… then I realized this year is mostly just one big void of exhaustion and hazy memories.

If I think hard, I can remember flashes of concerts I went to and good times with friends. I know I played my first few open mics this year; I have a decent voice but depressing songs that made strangers concerned for my sanity. I slept too much, but not enough. I worked a lot, but I was still too lazy.

This year, I created this website on a whim; maybe as a way to condense my creativity, maybe to throw my thoughts into something more than a notebook that’s never going to amount to anything. I haven’t done enough with this site this year.

I haven’t done enough with my life this year.

Maybe my biggest accomplishment of 2018 is simply not dying. Maybe that’s okay. Or maybe that’s just another bullshit excuse to make myself feel better about spending 365 days being a waste of space. Either way, I’m over it.

2018 can fuck off.

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