The Now

The Last Documentary

or, Reject Without a Hobby

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Day 77 - At a loss for a title
The Now

I was ambushed tonight. And no one cares. No one even knows. Well, 2 do.
My hand is misshapen from broken bones. It looks like me more than I do.
This is all I get. I have failed on every front. Two turns left, and I already see the outcome. There is no way out.
I cannot persevere. I cannot continue. I have reached Omega. Omega Zed. OZ.
But there is no Wizard here, Dream or otherwise. Just a captain, and the remnants of my dead art. And a demon ripping me apart inside. Why would I want to continue with that? What sadist would want me to continue with that?
It’s not easy being a failure. It’s impossible to be a failure that people believe can succeed. The bar can never be crossed.
This game is over.

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I found this journal by misspelling “FTW” in the search bar. And while this is coming from a complete stranger, that doesn't have to make it any less sincere: I really hope you hold on. You write well, and you think things worth thinking—that has a lot of value, at least to me. Just saying “I’m so sorry for how things are for you” runs the risk of coming off trite, but nothing more eloquent has popped into my head just yet. I am sorry, though, and I do hope life gets better—you deserve for it to get better, even if you don’t think so right now. Please don't give up.

It's not going to get better. There is no hope. This has been a decline for 35 years. Nothing is going to change for the better, only for the worse.
The fact that you would try to help a stranger says good things about you. But your energy is wasted on me. You should save it for someone who can be pulled back from the brink - I'm already past Dante's sign.

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