I'm gone
I'm here
I'm mad
but I'm weird
I give up
On myself
I never give up
On my love
I try
to forget
but there's not enough time
to get away
to get AWAY GAGAGAGAGAGGH
I wish there was a drug I could take that would rip my soul out of my body and end my dreaming, end my hopes, end my crushing infinite disappointment. I wish I could stop wishing.
I learned to talk to inanimate objects in order to vent my frustrations.
I'm now fairly acquainted with Rooms 350 and 351. 350 was quiet but polite, 351 came off as a bit of an asshole at first but I realized it was a pretty cool room anyway.
Things have different personalities and no one sees them.
Life is full of patterns, webs of coincidences, connecting at the seems of time and space... do you see these webs? Do you see we're all the same? Nobody is special... I wonder what my thoughts are. I wonder how many have thought them before. Are they recycled?
Is it good for the environment for me the think thoughts already thunk?