If one happens to seem slightly broken, then I should move onto the next one.
I'm not exactly one to really give a fuck, when all is said and done I get the short end of the stick.
And it's not very pleasant, no sir. But I keep my chin up, it's a helpful way to do things yes. Although the frustration just makes me hungry, and I feel like singing. I miss the sky, I dream of big ones, full of millions of stars. I wouldn't believe in them if I hadn't seen one with my very eyes. Back in days when my mind wouldn't melt on a daily basis and spend it's hours in panic about life. Those were fairly wonderous times, i'll admit. Between that and sitting by myself with some snacks at the pier watching the sunset, I have a hard time choosing. In the back of my head I can hear some guitar solos, and someone scratching my skull with a prison knife. So many complaints, so many issues, problems, hungers, pains. So much insatisfaction, and disapointment, and images of miniature violins playing in a white background.
But that isn't me, I maintain my optimistic nature. Or I try, at least.
For all I know I barely know where i'm headed next.