The Poptarts enjoy my Company. . .
Hah. Yes, they do. Oh, how they enjoy my company. I feel like I'm not alive, like I'm sleeping, and expect myself to wake up soon. I'm floating through life. Terrible, terrible feeling. Like your sucked into your own world? And life passes you by. And the people in it, just laugh and giggle, like your just dandy, and when they ask you if your ok. It's like your answer doesn't really mean anything, they just asked it, because it was obligatory. How they rot in their stench, seemingly enjoying the monotonous routine of shoving their filthy mouths with greasy shit-like food. I don't know, maybe theres something wrong with me lately. Is having conversations with yourself unhealthy? Maybe, there was a reason I went to a therapist. Did I spell that right? Ah, well. I don't know. I just don't know. I feel like I'm in vertigo. Floating away from reality, trying to figure something out, that I'll never solve. Oh where, oh where, has my little dog been. . .