Cite this.
How time flies, it's the last day of July. Not three quaters of the year has passed, and I'm tired, cynical and broken, heavy with a sense of resentment.
Pardon me for my pessimism, but right now my cup's not half full.
I wasted my time sleeping this morning. But during the time I threw my phone across the room to shut it up, I didn't think of it that way. Snooze, snooze, snooze, and finally fling. Peace until the house phone rang endlessly and I rose from my slumber only to hear nothing on the other end.
Walk around the house, the empty house and then plonked myself on the couch, flipping through the travel magazine, I realise that I'm always trying to escape this reality.
Sleep, travel, dream a little bit, write a little, get lost with my menagerie a little bit, sleep again, travel, get some sort of satisfaction for a while, and then back to reality, oh here comes gravity, back to this rabbithole we all call life.
Maybe I'm lacking faith, maybe I'm lacking love. Faith I thought I found for a while, I lost it and I've only got myself to blame because I let everything around me influence the way I feel and the way I act.
Hush, you colour my eyes red. Your love's not life, it's dead. And then I'm over you, I escaped being tormented with thoughts of you, and then here comes another you, whom I'm not sure will colour my window to my world the same colour you did, whom I'm not sure will turn the clear of my mind to murky.
I wasted my time this morning, just thinking, and hoping to escape this place soon, trying to fall into a black hole I try to create but is never there. I don't know why I'm writing this, I think I'm trying to impress someone out there, I don't know who but the truth is, my words are not real, I've been plagarising writers of all sorts, taking ideas and lines, I am ashamed of myself for my lack of originality.
I used to tell other people that no matter if your glass is half empty or if it's half full, there's always room for improvement. But I think I'll never listen to myself.
Pardon me for my pessimism, but right now my cup's not half full.
I wasted my time sleeping this morning. But during the time I threw my phone across the room to shut it up, I didn't think of it that way. Snooze, snooze, snooze, and finally fling. Peace until the house phone rang endlessly and I rose from my slumber only to hear nothing on the other end.
Walk around the house, the empty house and then plonked myself on the couch, flipping through the travel magazine, I realise that I'm always trying to escape this reality.
Sleep, travel, dream a little bit, write a little, get lost with my menagerie a little bit, sleep again, travel, get some sort of satisfaction for a while, and then back to reality, oh here comes gravity, back to this rabbithole we all call life.
Maybe I'm lacking faith, maybe I'm lacking love. Faith I thought I found for a while, I lost it and I've only got myself to blame because I let everything around me influence the way I feel and the way I act.
Hush, you colour my eyes red. Your love's not life, it's dead. And then I'm over you, I escaped being tormented with thoughts of you, and then here comes another you, whom I'm not sure will colour my window to my world the same colour you did, whom I'm not sure will turn the clear of my mind to murky.
I wasted my time this morning, just thinking, and hoping to escape this place soon, trying to fall into a black hole I try to create but is never there. I don't know why I'm writing this, I think I'm trying to impress someone out there, I don't know who but the truth is, my words are not real, I've been plagarising writers of all sorts, taking ideas and lines, I am ashamed of myself for my lack of originality.
I used to tell other people that no matter if your glass is half empty or if it's half full, there's always room for improvement. But I think I'll never listen to myself.