03.10.13//1:26

I have still not learned how to live life.

My disgust at everything I have ever said and felt grows upon reflection. And then, in an effort to soothe it all, I commit to never doing or saying anything again.

A childish wish: to disappear. But not in a literal sense. In the way that will rid myself of myself and replace me with a new me.

This takes work. And I don't have many you's to emulate to make a me.

It seems, I have spent so much of my life trying to make other people happy and proud. And now that I have stopped moving, I don't know what to do for me. But even then, I was miserable through all of that, and wanted out.

So it's a part of my fabric. Frustration. Listlessness. Daydreaming. Doing little to further the things I'd like to do.

Even stopping to figure it out seems too much work. Possibly too painful. So I continue with the distractions, and shove back wondering "what if this is as good as it gets?"

I used to have a stronger stomach. I used to have a weaker stance. I used to desire adventure and novelty, and now I desire whiskey and sleep.

Residual energy coats my bones with a fine dust, and I tell it to just wait, because what if something is going to happen and it's going to be the best thing that ever happened to anybody ever and it might happen to me (if I just wait).

But what if this is as good as it is ever going to get?

Really.

<</>>
As good as I am awfully sure it will ever be.
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