Mood: rejective amplitude I can't live for you because if you haven't noticed, I can't even live to care for myself. This should be interesting, in a destined to fail sort of way. Someone is going to tell me that helping someone else is the best way to forget about yourself. But what happens when you see yourself in the person you're helping? I don't think I'm capable of following my own advice. The both of us, we stagnate. We need to be pushed and unfortunately, I'm the only one that's there to do just about anything constructive. Ironic because I feel completely helpless. If when you wake up and all you see is grey, I can't remove that because it's the same poison that's coursing through my veins as well. One infected trying to disinfect the other. It always seems to be a cruel joke; the entirety of life. And here I am, dead in my chair with the only technicality of feeling alive is the sound of motion within my chest. I blink from one broken, incomplete thought to the next, half-heartedly trying to figure it all out.
What really is the frequency?
9:04 a.m.//03.19.07
Sound: The Stooges -- Loose
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