The Entire World Is Counting On Me, And They Don't Even Know It.

Two. Four. Five.

Used to look forward to it. Now I don't even really remember why. Hope, I guess.

I miss things that aren't around anymore. But not just that. Not just hope, either. I miss something that I can't put a name or a face to, but I simply don't have anymore.

She simply will not die. She will not die. She won't die.

She/he/it? Whatever.

Plucking strands. Metaphors are so fucking old. I'm sick of them. But being cryptic fits me better than beind straight-forward.

Stop worrying, there's nothing left to worry about. And I don't mean that in a comforting way.

Probably disillusioned. Bitter, obviously. Can't bother to be contemplative, all it does is enrage me. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, boiling up and spreading out, the heat is so intense and ...fucking scary. I've seriously never felt this way.

I don't have the answers anymore. Sorry.

I agree. Laid to waste, entirely. But not Memphis.

Definitely not Memphis.