How long have I been holed up in here?
I don't know.
I don't feel like leaving, either.
I don't feel like...anything.
I feel dead.
Nothing matters anyways, does it? No matter what I do, nothing changes. It's all a cycle.
I've been pulling my knife out of its drawer and staring at it, just thinking...
Honestly, what's the point anymore? Is anybody even going to miss me? Is there a point to delaying the inevitable?
I don't think so...
I don't know.
That blade looks sharp enough...
~Yohio
