Poor little misunderstood baby, no one likes a sad face - but I can't remember life without him. I think I did have good days.

Surfing from place and person to another and never feeling any better or more at home than before. Creating false illusions of happiness to take the edge out of your own melancholic anxiety, living a lie that is called life, a lie that is actually more truthful than any truth you've said out loud within the past few years. Waking up after every dream sleep-deprived, falling asleep just as tired as you were when you first got up. Screaming your lungs out by staying quiet for days, opening a door inside your mind for people to walk in, just to notice there are 200 other doors behind that one waiting to be unlocked but you forgot the key in your childhood and you have no idea where there.



I must now make a sober confession: I really am done with people surfing for a while. I'm all kittens and puppies.

Everything is and will be fine.