I am always looking for trouble but I’m not very good at finding it. Trying to balance indulgence and ambition. Trying to keep my head on during the week. I find myself disobeying my common sense for the hell of it, hoping something exciting will find me.
I’m waiting for something to hit me. Maybe reality. Maybe a bus.
I want to be understated, like all of my favorite things. Don’t take me seriously. I certainly don’t. I’m living in a fantasy world for hours at a time. When I can afford it. To forget that I have a body, let alone a mind.
They tell me I have to form complete sentences. Red pen all over me, spilling onto my sheets. None of the pros do. Why train myself to make art I don’t like? I like the singers with the quivering voices and the shitty mics and the cracks in their words.
I just need my fix. Balance me right out. Take me out of my head so I can sit right for another few weeks. I don’t want to ever need anything, but I love to ruin myself. What does it mean to need something anyway? I don’t need anything. Only food and water to stay alive. But I don’t need to stay alive. I don’t need anything. Unless we’re talking about happiness. Do we need to be happy though?
Propagating the worst version of myself. The reality is somewhere in between, but we’re all pretty dramatic here, so I figure it’s alright.
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