SERIOUSLY, GUYS

Life is a dull vacuum of disbelief in which I am constantly wishing I was stoned, dead, happy, running, laughing, writing, or getting just enough sleep. Fucking anything that would stave off the anger. It's all pointed inwards. Things are happening. Accomplishments are routing themselves all over my red, pasty body. Like infernos of deference, they wake me up with just enough time to shower and go off to work. Just enough time to get 5 scrambled eggs and cheese and coffee for 2 dollars before I log into the terminal and begin an 8 hour day of talking on the phone and moving around more money than I'll ever touch over the course of a lifetime. Nothing is too far out of reach. Even the simple things I want. I want things simple. And I don't think it's fair that I deprive you all of the person I could be if I gave a shit about myself.