leaving my house in the morning is a chore… i’m inching further and further towards the tantalizing temptation alcohol and giving up on all my obligations. i wish i could wash this all away, in my dream i’m downing two whole bottles of 151 and topping it off with maybe a hundred trazodone, i just want to fucking give up and i don’t know how i’m even here
i’m alone as alone gets. i only have a few friends, and even then i’m the replaceable second choice everyone can live without.
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Leaving the house is a chore, I will leave out of boredom, and never make eye contact with anyone else. Less contact with people the better.
Somewhere near the ocean, lots of books, some good but not overpowering weed, my camera, a bicycle, and a lot of overpowering sunsets, and nothing more, forever. Adios, 40 hour weeks, tv news, traffic jams, bureacracy. Please don’t wake me from this dream.