Flu ptidoo

Flu. Quite the epidemic here. Also panic and stress because of a would-be birthday visit by my father and mother. Thank god that's not happening anymore.
I can't remember a time when I did have a clear head to think things through with at the moment of writing an entry. This time it's mucus and an absurd mudslide of emotions, all of them old and rotten.
It's not just me either, my sister too. Usually our anger (rage even) runs parallel and we're just so overwhelmed with whatever is happening. It's like emotional diarrhea, alllll the shit flushing out of the system.
No progress, still the same shit as always and so this all doesn't seem worth it anymore. Nothing seems worth anything anymore.
The comic has been published and it's a success so my mother's happy about that and it felt alright to have actually accomplished something for a change.
Close to finishing a painting for the first time in 8 years, which would have been nice, if I didn't feel so deflated and demotivated. Things just suck so bad. Life just sucks so bad. There is no connection, no faith, no surrender, no purpose, no heart.
There has been a lot of crying these past months, A Lot, like, 13 year old me amounts. I think I've dried out again though.
Bored with all the drama, bored with people hurting and not being able to do a damn thing about it, bored with myself and my subservience, the way I'm always fucking belly up, throat exposed "please don't hurt poor me". So disgusted with it all. It's so, so tiresome.
And so my 43rd birthday approaches and there isn't a goddamn thing to celebrate. Nothing that matters, no Further. Same old shit, just older.
Yawn.