According to him, I’ve gotten pretty good at the “all talk” thing. Of course, in my head, I mean every word that I say, but my actions always seem to say something different. “Everything’s good” lately has meant “I’m about to run away” and “yeah, I’m happy” means I’m about to spit on you. You feed me through an institution long enough and that’s what you get. ”Where’s your three-tiered argument? Where’s you’re well thought out conclusion with the zinger at the end? Where was the fucking introduction?!” Tired of it, I suppose. This decision came sporadically and I executed it just the same. No introduction, no body, no conclusion. Just me; you’re green eyed thesis ready to go pummel through the world like a last minute paper inspired by Adderall and sugar free red bull. ”Give up. Just give up then.” There’s no giving up here. One foot in front of the other like I said I would. Can’t turn around, won’t turn around, must go. ”You’re still a free bird. Is that was this is about? I’d travel the world for you, go anywhere.” Travel the world for yourself, baby. This dungeon has its own dragons that need taming. Trial & error. What are a few more scars?
Let the paper write itself. This one’s gonna be a goodie, I can feel it.
xo & yw
