This weekend
has been alright. I don't know. I just don't feel here. Almost like I just don't exist. What is there of me anymore anyways? not much.
I'm not myself and I'm not sure I can be. It's ironic, though. The more I'm unable to just be me the more I really love who I am/was. Situations begin to look a little different.
I want a million cigarrettes and a table full of friends talking about absolutely nothing at all. I want to laugh and do things that are so pointless, but make me happy. I want happiness without worry.
I'm not myself and I'm not sure I can be. It's ironic, though. The more I'm unable to just be me the more I really love who I am/was. Situations begin to look a little different.
I want a million cigarrettes and a table full of friends talking about absolutely nothing at all. I want to laugh and do things that are so pointless, but make me happy. I want happiness without worry.