I've suddenly lost the passion to write.
The passion to get out of my own bed.
The passion to dance.
And
The passion to tell everyone about my day.
Nobody cared about my writing in the first place.
Nobody likes anything about me so they'd rather I stay in bed all day.
Nobody including myself likes how I look when I dance.
Nobody likes talking to me because they think I'm over dramatic and like to start drama.
So I lost all hope for everything once everyone I knew left me all by myself.
YOU ARE READING
This Dying Love
RandomLove is dying. Love is hurting. Love is boring. Love is searching for something new. Love is simply love. This book isn't just about love. Its about the good times and the bad times. And everything in between. This is a personal journal at most. D...
