oh, and lo, but i am, simply stated, beat.
blue, blue, blue. this is all ridiculous and retarded. my aspirations are impossibilities. and that makes me want them all the more. i'm going to die from stress related illness by the time i'm twenty. i push myself too hard to understand just even a fraction of the information that's out there. sign of the times. everyone is a specialist for a reason. or they're sane to not care, i don't know. i don't know! i'm manic over nothing. no, not manic. too lethargic to possibly be manic. i feel like a slug. my body doesn't care about jack right now. lying down and listening to the drone of even something trashy is an attractive option. all i want to do is absorb, absorb, absorb. there are about twenty books in front of me that i want to read. no, fuck it. i don't want to read them, i want to already know what they say. and why? for what? pray god, i'm manic.
it's just all a little too big right now.
it's just all a little too big right now.