it's 12:04. i'm supposed to be doing productive things and i cant quite get myself to want to. it's funny because 2 weeks ago i was charged up for this type of thing. now i don't even want to be at work. or near work. or thinking about work.
or really anything.
life is always this thing i have in my mind that i can't quite get to. this is the part where some invisible narrator says, "this is life." stupid faceless voice.
i was laying in my bed this morning at dawn looking at my purple walls with all my pictures arrayed about. and i thought, "i was never meant to be here." and i don't know if that thought stems from being treated inconsequential or because i really should be somewhere else.
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