My life is a fucking mess. Sitting here and looking at my surroundings is just an abysmal experience. There's a fucking bottle of sriracha and bottle of soy sauce with a long lost top sitting to my right. On the other side is my "desk trashcan", a repurposed pen holder dedicated to eliminating the shrapnel from my desk. Where does the shrapnel come from? Well, it comes from whatever thing I've decided to destroy simply for the sake of destroying. There's fucking dust everywhere, a prescription bottle, and a half drunk bottle of water from like three weeks ago. There's countless fucking rockstar can/bottle tops, because I've got a fucking issue with caffeine in moderation apparently. Broken bike parts, a half built gundam models from years ago. A tea cup. What the fuck is this shit, and why is it here? Why do I keep it here? What the fuck is wrong with my life that I allow myself to continue this fucking repugnant behavior. I just want to lie down and die, it seems like the quickest road to unfucking up the apparently permanent character flaws.