fuck you, st. johns wort

you're not working. i am clearly depressed, and anxiety ridden to boot. i hate everyone. i don't want to leave my house. post-tour deeepppressssiooooonnnn. its like being on the very top of a ferris wheel and just as you're about to look at the miles of scenery laid out beneath you, some piece of shit straps a blindfold over your eyes and then pokes you in the stomach giggling JKJKJKJKJKJKJKJKJKJK

fuck you, he who shall not be named. making me sweat like this. you twat. and fuck you once more, st. johns wort.

i want to build a cabin in the mountains and surround it with a moat that is filled with fire-breathing dragons that love me and only me and want to eat all of you.

the end.