(no subject)
There are forty thousand angles I can take on this situation, and yet I've found that no one has deliberately taken my side. Not even myself. I've been convicted without a declaration of my crime. Of course, there has been no established punishment, but I'm feeling it. It's like a new old medical mystery. A stinging wives tale. A thorn on a puppy. A nonsensical simile. It just doesn't make sense physically or semantically.
Why isn't this simple? If you could paste history together, things would be just right. Each phase is worn down by alternating obstacles. I guess I was cursed by the hand on the clock, slicing between each minute, each hour, each eon, each chapter.
It's clear that I'm only kidding myself. I don't want you avoiding me. I don't want you miserably gazing at me over someone's shoulder. I don't want you awkwardly high-fiving me. I don't want to hate you. I don't want anyone else.
Anyone else wants me, though; am I good at this or what?
You can only watch your life for so long before it gets under your skin.
When did my existance change from a comedy to a drama?
Why isn't this simple? If you could paste history together, things would be just right. Each phase is worn down by alternating obstacles. I guess I was cursed by the hand on the clock, slicing between each minute, each hour, each eon, each chapter.
It's clear that I'm only kidding myself. I don't want you avoiding me. I don't want you miserably gazing at me over someone's shoulder. I don't want you awkwardly high-fiving me. I don't want to hate you. I don't want anyone else.
Anyone else wants me, though; am I good at this or what?
You can only watch your life for so long before it gets under your skin.
When did my existance change from a comedy to a drama?