birfday.

I'm writing a book damn it. and this is how it starts...with a blast from the past..

I knew that this night I would accumulate a  maximum of 5 hours of sleep. My body tugged at me to rest it, but something dragged me on. Perhaps it was the sheer neglect of my body's request that had caused it to rebel, or perhaps, i was unsettled. I keep feeling the need to blame all my problems on everything and everyone. In this case, my retched corpse was at fault. I call it a corpse deliberately if only to align with the already established face-value representation. Had i been lively and and soaked with life and light, or had i been grey and mundane, it would have made no difference. Do i hate it here or do i hate myself for not being able to love it?

Do you ever just feel like you're stuck in filth? LIke you're waiting around to find something, a revelation or something, but it just isn't here. Im not sure if that ever comes. I think you just make good things happen, like i have this idea that he whole world is just a bunch of things to be tampered with and rearranged, give or take ,and we make it what it is and i really like what it is, its beautiful. Sometimes its really easy to feel very alone when you are not, sometimes its easy to be completely selfish and and asleep to it for a very long time, if people around us say its okay, we live by that standard, O beautiful safe and long lasting standard, crash an burn .