(no subject)
Lately my skin has been either too tight or too loose, like a shirt passed down from a dead relative. It’s as if I’m a caricature of my former self, superficially going through the motions but completely lacking the insight. There are many reasons for this, I suppose-each one being so usual and lackluster that I won’t even waste my time typing them. It’s just atypical of me to feel so down about things; since I almost always have something to be sad about, I tend to ignore it. Why haven’t I been able to do that recently?
As of right now, I’m optimistic about the future, depressed by the past, terrified of the present.
As of right now, I’m optimistic about the future, depressed by the past, terrified of the present.