((insert creative writing based on your anxiety and stress here ))

[fuk u I am doing dis shit in 3rd peron BC fuk u (not really)]

"Four more weeks" The lightening ripped through the sky, causing the purple haired ball of blanket and pillows to squeal suddenly. There had been alot of thunder storms lately (tru dat). Once they managed to pry their eyes away from the window, they tried the words again "Four more weeks and that's it, four weeks, you can do this" They were about 16% sure they could and 84% sure they were just lying to themself. It was like their mind was caving in constantly.

The thought of being able to stay inside all day, draw to their hearts content, stay up late, and watch movies like AFIOS and If I Stay gave them motivation to make it through. They had been like this all year. All year. From the first day of year 8, they had been dreading everything. But looking back now, they realized how much happier they had been back then, which is saying something because they vaguely remembered talking themself out of killing themself within 6 weeks of school. It kinda made then dread the future, because if in the space, of not even a year, they had got to where they are now, how the hell is their future going to pan out.

They had been off sick alot. Their attendance was below 80% and had resulted in teachers asking about how they were, how life at home was and why they were getting sick. They found the last question entirely stupid, because it wasn't their fault, and they didn't know how they get sick, they just did.

They started out the year being told their parents are getting divorced, only to have them continue to live in the same house, and complain about each other to them, because they were the oldest.

They had visited the doctor about 30 times. Their homework was usually only just done on time. They were constantly losing their books. They couldn't focus.

It had been a tough year all in all.

They looked down at their hands, their nails where bitten, and there was was a rough patch of skin that was a result of one of the many anxious ticks they had developed that year, tried hard to get rid of, and failed miserably.

They found themself asking the question of 'why do you exist' over and over and over. They never really found an answer.

Their eyes started to sting and they closed their eyes. 'Four more weeks'

_

aye

what am I doing

lol

I DOnT EVen knOW WHy I wriTE THUs

just enjoy my attempt at 'creative writing'

goodnit