Another day goes by, faster than slower. the sun sets early, sleep comes fast, then, morning again. I feel like a fucking rat in a wheel. Stuck in a life of perpetual monotony. My only release is the artistic outbursts that still reside in the depths of my soul, seeing as the rest of me has become glassy and stale, im not sure how there is even a piece of me left that isn’t anything but a flat line. poetry of the heart is manufactured as out; now poetry of the mind.
Ill rebound, waking up 25 in my parents house again and again helps keep that from happening. This economy will be the downfall of my living. Funny how when we are young we have so many dreams to be so great and as you grow up cynicism starts to invade your fantasies, and not because of ones own faults, but because of things completely out of their control. people grow old and mean after being in situations they were to never blame for. Car broken into a stolen even though you locked it? Not your fault.