(no subject)
i didnt used to be ashamed of my thoughts. i think at this point, I'm afraid everything i write is redundent or just lame.
i used to pour it all out, every single word that entered my brain. as if it were gold that i would very much need later.
did i grow old so fast? let the cobwebs take over. allow myself to go through each day as if it were the same. has it been that way?
i need a steady catharsis. i want to burn inside. i am growing so tired of doing the same thing every day. why would i follow such a pattern?
some days the sadness is just so present. it pushes on the top of my head. drips from every word, vague, though clearly there.
i say this often, but i need a change, and i suppose i have to be the one to put that into motion.
i used to pour it all out, every single word that entered my brain. as if it were gold that i would very much need later.
did i grow old so fast? let the cobwebs take over. allow myself to go through each day as if it were the same. has it been that way?
i need a steady catharsis. i want to burn inside. i am growing so tired of doing the same thing every day. why would i follow such a pattern?
some days the sadness is just so present. it pushes on the top of my head. drips from every word, vague, though clearly there.
i say this often, but i need a change, and i suppose i have to be the one to put that into motion.