I used to want to be a writer.
I can’t exactly sleep. Nope, not now. Not when the world keeps turning. I’m getting motion sickness. I’m too alert, but I’m not really into it, or anything, I’m just spread all over the place, I have this interest and that interest and I’m happy when I’m doing this or that but then no I have to dedicate my life to this or that or I need to do this thing because EVERYBODY else is doing it or because I’m too old or too young too dumb or not athletic enough, what am I even doing anymore, I excel at being good on paper. This is my life, and I’d like to say I’m not too scared but that is the nature of the beast. That is how things work. I’d like to be interesting and I’d like to be happy and have who I want and what I want without being an asshole but you can’t always get what you want, I guess but if you try sometime you just might find you’ll get what you need. People are constantly changing and life is opening up along the margins pushing them wide open. I thought you were someone then now I think you’re a joke. No not you I still care about you but I’m a mess and you’re a mess. Life man. Life. (passes the blunt) not really I don’t smoke. I just don’t do enough but I do too much. Aha ha first world problems man :)
