(no subject)
It's torture, it's slow suicide. It's the agony of seeing cars fly by on the highway as I sit on my lunch break, smoking a cigarette. God, I miss the road.
I thought I could break the habit, I thought I could drink the yearning into submission but it still rears it's ugly head in those moments when your past sneaks up on you when you least expect. You know when that happens, when you're off from work, another day as a corporate slave. You just want a drink or two, just to clear your mind and help to forget the fact that you work under the gun to pad the pockets of people who will make more in one year than you will in your entire life.
I tried so hard to sweep it under the carpet, tried so hard to "be responsible" and "grow up", but look where it got me. I'm starting all over again, in a place where I really don't know anyone. I was tossed a life preserver, another chance to pull it together again.
I miss swaying arm in arm with people to Flogging Molly, I miss drunken rambling and barroom brawls. I miss... life.
I thought I could break the habit, I thought I could drink the yearning into submission but it still rears it's ugly head in those moments when your past sneaks up on you when you least expect. You know when that happens, when you're off from work, another day as a corporate slave. You just want a drink or two, just to clear your mind and help to forget the fact that you work under the gun to pad the pockets of people who will make more in one year than you will in your entire life.
I tried so hard to sweep it under the carpet, tried so hard to "be responsible" and "grow up", but look where it got me. I'm starting all over again, in a place where I really don't know anyone. I was tossed a life preserver, another chance to pull it together again.
I miss swaying arm in arm with people to Flogging Molly, I miss drunken rambling and barroom brawls. I miss... life.