Maybe I'm growing up.
Naw, couldn't be.
I'm probably being childish again. Obsessing over strangers who grow stranger and further from me all the time.
I so desperately want something more.
If I had something better to do I wouldn't even care.
That's the saddest thing I've ever written.
I guess the good feeling would have to fade at some point. I feel like dusting out my hole and crawling inside.
Closing my eyes and screaming.
The monotony of it all is tearing holes in my insides just for a change.
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