The laugh is a cover for inner screams.
I live, laugh, cry, love and know that soon a new semester will begin.
I treated myself today to a little breakfast at Cracker Barrel.
I enjoy who I am, despite the fact that there seems to be a lot missing, just not sure what is at the root of the lack of total satisfaction. I feel this more keenly today. I'd rather just have reasons to stay at home and putter the remainder of my life. I want to travel, but not just in my longings, in life, to explore, to discover, to meet new people, to thrive everywhere, to not just dream about through books and in my own mind. That it has come down to a mere scraping to survive. Futility.
I look around, and I think, "is this all there is?" Life is so highly over rated. I hate life sometimes. There's just not enough experiences. I want to see my folks more frequently. Not enough money for that even. How can I prevent? The answer is that I can't. I must suffer through right now and muster courage.
I know I've penned these thoughts repeatedly, and I may write a sad and boring refrain, but this is what targets me at this stage in my life. The bright side is that I do have fodder for writing, and bright times burst forth like fireworks silohuette; but also like firework sparks, the hues fizzle quickly into blackness and dissipate into the night.
Sometimes there just aren't enough swearing words to depend upon.
I live, laugh, cry, love and know that soon a new semester will begin.
I treated myself today to a little breakfast at Cracker Barrel.
I enjoy who I am, despite the fact that there seems to be a lot missing, just not sure what is at the root of the lack of total satisfaction. I feel this more keenly today. I'd rather just have reasons to stay at home and putter the remainder of my life. I want to travel, but not just in my longings, in life, to explore, to discover, to meet new people, to thrive everywhere, to not just dream about through books and in my own mind. That it has come down to a mere scraping to survive. Futility.
I look around, and I think, "is this all there is?" Life is so highly over rated. I hate life sometimes. There's just not enough experiences. I want to see my folks more frequently. Not enough money for that even. How can I prevent? The answer is that I can't. I must suffer through right now and muster courage.
I know I've penned these thoughts repeatedly, and I may write a sad and boring refrain, but this is what targets me at this stage in my life. The bright side is that I do have fodder for writing, and bright times burst forth like fireworks silohuette; but also like firework sparks, the hues fizzle quickly into blackness and dissipate into the night.
Sometimes there just aren't enough swearing words to depend upon.
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