And then everyone went home, safe and sound.

I feel like I'm starting all over again from nothing. Dust and water shall be my building blocks, or some shit like that. And I just don't have the fucking energy or drive some days to feel it out, to read the script and act like I give two fucks. Because maybe I don't. Because it feels like far too much is actually at stake to just dick around and see what fits; far too much is actually at stake to trust my life with it all. In a room full of happy people, I often feel like a fool. Why isn't that me? Why so many empty fucking houses have to be passed to acknowledge that we're one and the same?

A brief part of me doesn't want to care anymore, it want's to tell me to fuck it all and let things run their course. But the larger part of me isn't ok with that, and it's a fucking nightmare. My brain is literally swimming right now and I don't know what to say or do to make myself feel better about my own life. My own fucking life. I own my problems. I own their solutions. And, I own the fact that they are hard-pressed to get rid of.

Look out world, I've got a filthy mouth, a urgency in my heart, and no fucking clue what to do with it all. Look out me, the world will eat you, and your fucking heart, alive. Look out.