(Listening to The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll - Cage The Elephant)
The cold blue pollutes my motivation. My only goal for the hours that pass: live.
A heavy sharp rock dropping from the top of my dreams to my chest.
How I wish I was this and that.
Will I ever be this good?
Where is the so-called happy and successful life everyone saw for me?
Who will I be?
Will I be remembered?
Will I be happy?
Will I be myself in the end?
The time ticks and the worry does not stop.
***
I guess this little weird feeling of stress and sadness makes me worry about my future. It's scary to not know what's coming next. I have this college homework I have to finish but my brain does not want to focus on shit like socioeconomic status. I would rather worry more about worrying. The unhealthy thinking is addicting. I forget my medication, so do I really want to see progress in myself?
I know it's a toxic relationship: the fights of chemical imbalances in my head.
