Fuck fuck fuck.
Maybe it’s for the best.
I despise myself for being so fake.
Bleh.
Makes me nauseous.
(everything has to be the exact way it was. Everything has to play out exactly the way it has to)
Hmmm.
Patience is a virtue?
(whatever gets you through)
I am dissatisfied.
(good place to start)
(there’s a lesson in here)
And a bunch of noise.
I pick up on vibes,
Vibes are telling me…
I’m in a position.
Which is fine,
There’s just, just a danger alarm going off.
It takes a LOT to be fake every day. Takes a lot to pretend you care, or to exude a feeling of caring.
Not when you know how things go.
Not when you know people, or how they operate.
Not when you can predict..
Fucking sucks.
I’d be fine if I were brain dead.
I could just take it.
Mehhh…
If you love the planet, at some point,,,you have to talk about how many people are on it.
I know it’s fucked up.
Can’t help it .
Just some obvious shit
dawn 