out of context
The one day that I actually want to do work, the landscape artists drill the roots out of the side of my parents' house, thus causing an earthquake.
I've been feeling like I'm going crazy for some time now, outside sources seem to agree. It's been a long time since someone wrote a really good book from prison [asylum]. I don't even know what I'm fighting for anymore, or why.
Everything is in question. The fucking trials in this tired coming of age story.
Maybe we're just not being empathetic enough towards each other. Maybe it's just me.