I don’t want to admit it, but I’m alone. Loneliness would completely sum up my life right now. I hate my job, I don’t feel free despite the fact I’m currently on a two month vacation. I wish I could be more hip and cool.
I wish people could actually want to talk to me and not have to talk to me. I wish I’d be more honest to myself and face the fact that I’m probably going to be alone at least for the next dragging two years of my life. Tis’ inevitable. I hate being alone. My neck fucking hurts, feels like a baboon hopped on my back and bit into spine. All I have is the project. The project that I conjured to battle all this shit. It’s there when I feel insecure. It’s haunting behind me whilst relishing happy moments. It ’s constant and oh, how I require consistency. I like the word “indie kid” instead of “hipster”. Hipster was the chosen vernacular for the old counterculture, which died. I wish I didn’t live here. Everything happens everywhere else in this damn country. No one wants to visit Florida, ironically coined the “sunshine state”. That name’s a low lure to encapsulate waywards in suffocating humidity, eye-blinding sunshine, and mind-numbing desolate “cities” without a god damn thing to do. I wish I could be smoother, as in the accepted vernacular for witty, I use plenty of lotion.
