I keep writing about the past hoping that the future will write itself.

That all is well and everything is fine, but I know I’m convincing myself too and we both know, I’m not that strong.

I’m sick of being tired and tired of being sick, and I hat coughing out my words and sulking and pouting after so I hate your opinions and your ‘wisdom’ cause I know that they are right, and I hate being wrong and I hate being right about being wrong all the fucking time and I hate the word hate because it doesn’t truly express what I’m feeling.

So it’s about damn time I get my shit together because I hate it when it falls apart.

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