Nothing can be solved.
Just write dope poetry and drink.
Keep eating your lolipops like they're nutritional and dye your tongue bluer than before.
Schedule in time for you to slap yourself in the face for caring.
You could've made a better choice when you were four and decided to be an astronaut instead of a princess. It would've been more realistic.
Maybe you would've made it instead of sitting at 44 without a person who gives a fuck that you are breathing and a bottle of cognac and a whole bottle of pills which you're taking all at once to give you a quick dose of death.
Goodnight.
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