my dream for the future is to move into a shitty downtown apartment in new york and have a drum set and a dozen nice bass guitars lined up on my wall and i dont want a proper job or anything, i'll be okay working at fucking starbucks for all i care. i want to be in a metal band with people i love and care about and i still want to be getting high, but not because i feel bad, just to make the good times even better.
i want a shitty car, and a nice partner who orders me pizza when im sad and i want to own a dog and a cat with them and i just want to have a normal life. everyones telling me to aim high, but i dont want to. i would be so fucking content with this life and you have no clue how much i dream of this. but like, that's only if i'm alive and honestly why would i dream of a house when i cant even dream of next week.
YOU ARE READING
emotionally
Non-Fictionbasically a book where i write down how i'm feeling, throw in some really shitty poetry here and there and maybe a few songs for the hell of it. [ trigger warning ]
