my back has never felt as good as it does now.. with the bloody scratches and indentions from your griping finger nails.
I consistently wonder when real life is going to start.. I know my life is real now but when will I get all the great experiences and memories “I’ll never forget” I wonder if life has more to it than offer than shitty alcohol and meaningless sex. at this point to me love isn’t real and neither is anybody around me. this strange place called our home has turned me cynical to the thought that there could be anything better.
but then, I have a moment where I want to scream at the top of my lungs and cry on the ground at the same time.. while laughing because suddenly I have emotion again. but all that slowly fades within the thought that tomorrow will be the exact same. because my real life hasn’t started. I’m waiting for eventually, eventually life gets fucking better.