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qhy dont u be his peace

how is they still @ it christ spare my ass

apparently i've not lived a life worth any meaning and find no romance in anything. apparently i haven't romanticized living and don't bear any romanticism of the daily bore. i have not romanticized daily life situations, and hence i am yet to find any true meaning behind it all. the things i did romanticize back then come to me as in forms of mockery and i view the world through the lenses of skepticism. unfortunately, all i've ever wanted has been taken from me and i'm afraid there's not much for me to do to change that. there might be, there might, but i'm not so sure i have it in me. i at time loathe living so much, i've lived a life full of disappointment shaped in every situation and every human i came across. it hurts, it does, and maybe i'm being too much of a bitch. but i realize, i realize that i need to romanticize living in order to write well. but that ain't the endgame either, is it? so what's the point really. it's a loop ready to be run on again, and i'm stuck. why am i writing this? i realize i'm less than almost everyone. it sucks. so, fuck me. i hope no one reads this and i do pray i stop relating to this in the 'future', but will i? Nah.