Nobody reads this, so I don't know why I continue writing.
I'm not helping anyone.
I'm not inspiring anyone.
I'm not alkjsdlksvl;ksnd;.mk;iJ:*(U@#o;iSD:vNSD*)()(U@#%2ijm
Gah. I wish I wrote better. There are so many things I wish I could do better. Or even do at all.
I wish I could sing better.
I wish I could care better.
I wish I could draw better.
I wish I could be a better friend.
I wish I could be better looking.
I wish I could be better at being optimistic.
I wish I could be better at making music.
I wish I could.
I wish I could.
I wish
I could.
I
Wish
I
Could.
I always wished that I had friends that would call me more, friends that would reach out more to me,
But it's then that I realize,
That it's my fault.
A lot feels like my fault.
And, to me, it's because it is.
A silent pain that never escapes the mouth,
that never escapes the mind.
Instead it lingers and moans, growing and emerging from the sewers of the very nightmares you've created.
That you've created.
I read this. So don't stop writing. Ever. Let your thoughts escape the so called sewer into written and typed words instead of anything else. Some weekend when I'm not drugged up or on a date with the most handsome Ross we'll hang out. And draw. And I promise.
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