I guess I don’t have much to say
I’m just so goddamned tired
tired of a world that doesn’t give a shit
but expects me to give and give and give
a world that loves to suffocate
but expects me to breathe the ash and gas
and it feels like all I’m doing is
putting out fires
throwing money at problems
thinking about writing
which all amount to nothing at all
so I guess I don’t have much to say
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putting out fires
throwing money at problems
thinking about writing
which all amount to nothing at all
—I keep coming back to this. I feel like I could have written it myself.
I think we all feel that way sometimes. Or always? Maybe that’s just what adulthood feels like. :\
On Wed, May 13, 2015 at 11:40 AM, Only Fragments wrote:
>