I got it going, which is nice. But it still reads like a short story and doesn’t have much direction. It starts:
I was 9, the first time I tried to kill myself.
I meant to get to 1,667, but I’m tired and it’s already incredibly late. I can make up the extra words on the weekend. If my computer weren’t so bulky, I could carry it with me through the day. Oh well.
I do really want to do this.