Smiling sad. I don't know how anything is going to turn out; right now.
I fell asleep as soon as I got in, stretched out on my bed all by myself and a little bit tired of everything, tired of being something of a burden. And wishing I could talk myself back round to doing things I know I should again, and failing.

Is this all there is to look forward to? It's wrong, I suppose not to be content. Looking for something real, actually moving. Remember feeling something. Something real and really, beautiful realised.

Feeling:
Listening to:
Pretending:

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