lowered art form

[sulenoa]

i'm loosening my bow and closing my computer and packing my shit and putting it in my locker and going to my past and laying in the cold and going to the house and packing my shit and going to lawrence and going to omaha and seeing the barenaked ladies and going to wichita and even if i'm not sick for the first time in a week and a half tomorrow i'm coming back and nothing will be better, things will have been amazing, but nothing will be better, my tenses are providing a disturbing existence.

i don't know what i'm doing, i know being happy and i am but i don't know how to justify it among my debris. eventually i have to justify it, i really do, and i'm not making that okay.