Yep, been through a lot lately.
Too much to even know where to start, so I'll pass on the details. Sorry.
The point, I suppose, is that I've been living, which masks the scent of death creeping up. Sometimes, particular alternatives make me miss the olfactory stimulation of impending doom.
I often hate writing out what the point is. Really, I think the stuff I write gets across better if I trust you to evaluate it yourself, for better or worse. Worse than that is being asked to explain myself. Here's my pre-fabricated response to that request- Fuck you.
Sometimes I get lonely, and only want to be acknowledged. After I vent all these tiny random thoughts, then maybe I can discuss something with a point.
1 comment:
I relate in a different way. I don't feel like I ever do anything. Same droll existence, day in day out. Sometimes I yearn to abandon everything for a stint, but never can I rationalize my feelings so I just keep going.
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