the chronic sends me to and fro, like ships with tattered sails

[plasticbouquet]

Most of the time I think I've grown up too fast. I feel like I've fought too long, thought too hard, won too late, and lost too well. I don't know where or how to go/grow from here. There are no roads that explicitly call to me, only those winding paths which implicitly scream to me. I haven't any ideas, only hopes, aspirations, my creative mind. I don't know if I even possess friends or family, though there are those who may conclude otherwise, and even so, time will eventually tell. Nothing is certain, in this life or the next, and sometimes it is god damn exhausting.

the chronic sends me to and fro, like ships with tattered sails. and though i'm here in all my woe, laughter gathers no avail.

true that, son.

"herbals for the verbals, extractions and distractions."
-Pharcyde