(no subject)
Who the fuck knows anymore.
Sometimes I believe I'm the most sane person on the planet.
At other times I believe I'm the most insane person on the planet.
Putting shit in writing is my best way of organizing my thoughts.
Usually I use word, but I felt like doing this tonight.
I'm gonna be completely honest. I'm scared. I have no idea where my life is going.
There's this complete hole inside me, that I constantly try to fill by going out. Drinking. Smoking. Doing anything that takes my mind off it.
But. I'm sick of listening. I'm sick of it being my only talent. My best talent. Listening to what people tell me, putting it together. Figuring them out. Trying to understand them better.
But it's fucked with my head man. Listening to people problems, making them my own. It's become my identity. I've forgotten about myself. Dan Crate.
Is this what I want to be? A person who fixes people?
No.
It isn't.
I must find a different love, outside of constantly analyzing people.
The thoughts that flow through my mind. It's insane really. I'm insane really.
It's fucking with my own sanity.
I never know what's real.
And I'm desperate to find reality.
Wow.
Yeah. Another love is needed.
Something, anything.
Yeah.
Sometimes I believe I'm the most sane person on the planet.
At other times I believe I'm the most insane person on the planet.
Putting shit in writing is my best way of organizing my thoughts.
Usually I use word, but I felt like doing this tonight.
I'm gonna be completely honest. I'm scared. I have no idea where my life is going.
There's this complete hole inside me, that I constantly try to fill by going out. Drinking. Smoking. Doing anything that takes my mind off it.
But. I'm sick of listening. I'm sick of it being my only talent. My best talent. Listening to what people tell me, putting it together. Figuring them out. Trying to understand them better.
But it's fucked with my head man. Listening to people problems, making them my own. It's become my identity. I've forgotten about myself. Dan Crate.
Is this what I want to be? A person who fixes people?
No.
It isn't.
I must find a different love, outside of constantly analyzing people.
The thoughts that flow through my mind. It's insane really. I'm insane really.
It's fucking with my own sanity.
I never know what's real.
And I'm desperate to find reality.
Wow.
Yeah. Another love is needed.
Something, anything.
Yeah.