I thought that more people liked me.

I give up.

I’m sick of trying so hard, caring so much, everything mattering so deep.

I’m giving up.

I quit.

As I once said in an early 20’s drama fit “hope is dead to me.”

I mean it this time.

It will be so much better if I can finally figure out how not to care.

I don’t care.

I just want to chill out and enjoy my days away.

Like this woman.

She doesn’t give a shit if people like her or not. She has a dog, a record player, a comfy chair and that is all that matters to her. She is satisfied.It doesn’t matter to her how many people like her. She works from the heart and offers it to the wind. She doesn’t take rejection and criticism personally because she has a glint in her eye that says “my life is so fucking cool I’m just chillin’ here on my sheepskin.”

And as all the smart asses out there say, this relaxation will probably be what makes this woman deeply fulfilled and successful in her near future anyway. Not that I’m quitting for that reason. I’m quitting because I give up.

For real this time.

No more.

Enough is enough.

And this is not a pity party. No, no, no. I will not take any gifts or words of wisdom. I do not feel sorry for myself. I do not want to be chinned up anymore, it is too late for that. I’m empty and that’s okay. I’m dead.

On this day, May 21st, 2012 Emelia Symington Fedy has stopped striving.

She just will be.

She will do very little and what she does she won’t care much about.

Just watch me.

For real this time.

I mean it.

I’m done.

I have nothing left.

Except for this last sentence.

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