Bout to make a journal entry. About what? A little empty.
But; Glorious Rainfall 6 AM.
I’m sorry, I’m sick and picked up pen.
My little abyss playpen oblivion I Stay In…
I think that I need to make some serious life decisions…
I am getting a sickness…
I’m an extroverted raven living in a turtle shell under a rock…
Rock and a hard place.
This is too hard on me.
I don’t want this to be a complaining rant, thats not who I am. but Wait…
This isn’t who I am…
I must be doing something wrong then. I’m not that.
Inside and out I am the outgoing smiling eyes always up for surprise, slide around the city laughing until my demise.
People can see me and think vicariously as: “I” the most oblivious one, create, deviate fate I hate to say this but my “Life” Awaits!
I just can’t wait. Its bad for my health.
This isn’t about sex or wealth.
Shit, maybe it is…
I kind of hate myself.
Not because I don’t love you.
Because I do love you.
But fast life was quite surreal.
But I do kind of hate myself.
For bringing this on us. On myself.
Onward or forward ,please! if you would just step with me I’d chill. For real!
But like my old poem; it’s like going nowhere fast, present is my past.
Because I’m lonely. Wishing you were at home with me.
Sitting here waiting for my phone to ring…
I’m just sad.
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