i can’t write for shit. Words don’t sound as good as they do inside my head.
How come I always get the short end of the stick, I’m not perfect but I see others that are worse and man why do they get to get certain things. Like you or that. I keep wanting to type. With nothing to say. The feeling of clicking buttons is just satisfying. Hmm, I wish I had the guts to just drop shit and leave. I wish I could travel and fuck school. But I love school too. I just want to see things. I want to experience a different scenery. I want to see mountains. I really want to see mountains. I had a dream the other day I went hiking and god that sounds so lovely. My mind keeps changing. Keeps evolving. I don’t know who I am and I think it would be stupid to say I even had a clue. I don’t know anything. Damn I have so much to learn. I don’t think I want to stay in bed all day again. But I will. I just don’t even know anymore well I never did. I’m noticing that it’s no longer about who is around and more about me. The only people that truly care, the people behind that locked door. A home can be anywhere you want it to be. But without love, you got nothing. Patches of scattered stupid thoughts