Do you know what it’s like to breathe in a bag of aerosol? Do you know how it feels to be invincible? Do you even care? Probably not. I’m getting pretty close to that point myself. A day that was just total suck and then at the last minute went great only for it to just shrivel into oblivion just happenned to me. And I feel terrible. Not for the company I worked for. Not for myself. Just for my family. Their son works too hard and this is what happens. They must be so embarrassed by my existence. I would be, were I ever so smart. But this just smarts till it hurts. And that’s just another itch in the behind I cannot cure. Such a funny thing that I’m writing more now that I have nothing to write for, hm? It’s a strange balance that I feel myself torn because of. And then what’s going to happen when I get another job? Will I write even less once more? Maybe. Maybe not. Sometime soon, details will be revealed but for now I just have to come to a conclusion that this type of thing is just a faulty default of mine. I feel bad for those genuinely involved. Where is my focus? And why do scratches on my phone’s screen look like commas? How can I put up with myself if all I’m doing is damage to too damn significant aspects of existence. What was I thinking? Everything! A future full of possibilities and love. I wanted to love so bad. I still want to. But in this world, it appears to me that you need to be something for someone in order for someone to be something for you to obsess over. Maybe it’s this town. Maybe it’s this body. Maybe it’s irrelevant, repetitive and just plain annoying. That’s the truth I imagine. What does my brain have to offer when scratched all over the place. I get infinitely annoyed that I can’t be something more useful. But whatever. I’ll live. Sadly, with the smile that has to hold back a lifetime of opinions, I figure.
