And every day since then I've been taking the needle out of my brain
So when I'm staring down at my hands, I can't explain just what it is that I'm thinking of
Except thank god that all my veins have to pump is my blood"
I need a voice to calm me down.
The ol' disease #2 is acting up again.
like when you don't get to come up from the mine at the end of the day, and you have to watch everybody else leave to go home while the dust starts to cover you.
So I'm getting better, my friends, but please don't hold your breath.
the aforementioned dust is making me sit outside and chain smoke and type type type type type while i TRY not to go vomit or cry or both.
I'd give anything to be walking over a bridge right now.
Anything to burn off the past 2 months.
I'm not comfortable again and doesn't this always happen, the catch up that's always twice as hard as the damage that you do and when you do it you're in another universe where tomorrow doesn't exist.
When something so stupid consumes every inch of your brain and you know just how crazy you sound and how crazy you're thinking and the crazy things you're doing but hey. maybe you like it better that way.
But maybe you wish that you could be normal, too.
Nobody would ever guess, hey.
Family Feud style and the truth of things wouldn't ever make the fucking board.
Every day you reset, and every night you lie awake and tell yourself that you fucking failed, again, and tomorrow's gonna be different, dontchaknow.
a lobotomy. if my skin was any thinner I wouldn't be able to make it. but you can always wish that the wind might erode you just a little bit more. just a little bit more and everything will straighten out. you'll see.
you'll see what can happen with a little breeze and 10,000 years.