I cannot feel happy anymore. My self does not want to cooperate with what might be every last minute of my hands and eyes trying to slurp tiny inches of life. It is difficult just letting myself think of how to even begin from waking up early, making my bed, oh, my fucking bed, yes. Did you know that bestfriends do not seem to be the best at all specifically when your body gets tired of all these nasty sub-collections of I don't knows and how do Is but just because everything in their lives mimic something of someone to prove of how close gods can be, it is very, calmly very irritating to admit that somehow, I am still alive.
There is this lack of being which by the way, is sort of always manipulating my hours of mundanely mushing trivial tasks, making me stand still at the very same toll as I wait for everyday finale. Such habits train my thoughts into giving up temporarily on questioning daily existence. However, stupidity tends to attract distractions with which to debuff and counter, thus distracts distractions. Overcast skies sometimes negate fleeting feels of affection on baby ducks and dogs. Coffee and sleep do not work anymore. My scalp feels wet and sad, and I do not feel that I care so much that I let my cores trash-talk me for not having sufficient wards on the map.
Smoking cigarettes is right now a fucking blink away.
As I exhale a breath of anger towards my friends, my mind would burst-flood my flow with wits of patience and quietness, inevitably leading me into this marsh pond, swallowing me whole while I sip on my next followings. Another exhale would be relaxing but a reminder that all of my jests have come back to me, and will always be my sudden anxiety.