I don't want to write, anymore

Not that anyone cares. Not that anyone who knows or think they know me understand the weight of those words in the horrific way they translate to me.

...Where to begin in a...slightly...more mature way...

*Inhales*

I feel...as if I'm having some sort of...reverse-epiphany. A horrible, dawning realization that has been taunting me for two decades. It doesn't make this any easier.

I've never been so lost before. The one thing that I thought I knew I wanted to do, the one thing that I could always fall back on when sad, depressed, angry, tired...the one thing that encapsulated my whole being. The one thing that defined me. The one thing I always called myself in some sort of half-proud way. The one thing I knew I was meant to do, even if I wasn't good at it. The one thing I kept on doing, even if I wasn't good at it. The one thing no one—not even I—could stop me from doing, no matter what I was doing, where I was, what I had.

...I get it, alright...

You don't know me. You probably just barely glance over all of the shit I've ever posted in all my 11 years online. All you really notice is that I am, indeed, immature, probably selfish, and...whatever. But I am supposed to know who I am, god-fucking-damnit.

I don't know who I am, anymore.

And no one seems to care.

I live with someone who so easily saps the life right out of me. I admittedly have such a low self-esteem, I find my reaching out to family and friends who have actual lives to be...intrusive. Painfully, extremely so. Criminal, even. Irrationally so.

So I don't.

...

I don't to write, anymore.

...Never in my...existence...as a human being did I ever believe I would say such a thing.

I'm in shock, right now.

Numb but choked up, and yet...unfeeling at the same time.
...

I'm going to take some time to...possibly remove my presence from the internet. Somehow. Delete...a lot of accounts I've had for...a long time. There's no point, anymore. There was always an end goal. That end goal was...Project DV, and through it, Project PHE. PHE. My fucking baby. A sort of extension of all that I physically, mentally embody. It's all fucking useless, now.

Have I been going at this all wrong...?

I spent the past 20 years of my life wasting my time. So...so many ideas...Meaningless.

So goodbye, PHE. Goodbye, Tales by the One Who Knows. Goodbye, fanfiction.

Goodbye, me.

I hated you.

But I always hoped your writing would mean something, in the end.