Two years on
2 years
730 days
17,520 hours
1,051,200 minutes
63,072,000 seconds
It's a long damn time and it's gone in the blink of the metaphorical eye. I'm 33 years old now, just about 24 hours into my 34th full trip around the sun, actually, and it's been a long, strange two years that I've been reflecting on. I just wanted to put that down somewhere. I have more optimism right now than I did on August 8, 2016. That's not necessarily hard, because on that date, as I was sprawled out, drunk (of course), on the floor of my shitbag apartment, the suffocating despair and depression and sense of impending imminent doom left no room for frivolous feelings like optimism. Optimism was a luxury for people who had something left to cling on to, besides the now-half-empty bottle of 151 in my right hand.
Forgive me I can't speak straight
Forgive me I can't
Forgive me it's far too late
730 days
17,520 hours
1,051,200 minutes
63,072,000 seconds
It's a long damn time and it's gone in the blink of the metaphorical eye. I'm 33 years old now, just about 24 hours into my 34th full trip around the sun, actually, and it's been a long, strange two years that I've been reflecting on. I just wanted to put that down somewhere. I have more optimism right now than I did on August 8, 2016. That's not necessarily hard, because on that date, as I was sprawled out, drunk (of course), on the floor of my shitbag apartment, the suffocating despair and depression and sense of impending imminent doom left no room for frivolous feelings like optimism. Optimism was a luxury for people who had something left to cling on to, besides the now-half-empty bottle of 151 in my right hand.
Forgive me I can't speak straight
Forgive me I can't
Forgive me it's far too late