it's not like you read this anyway, do you? you could - i gave you the link - but i'm pretty damn sure you don't. whatever. i'm trying not to count hours. trying not to say, this is the summer we have. trying not to say, why doesn't it matter to you, or why doesn't it matter more, or why doesn't it matter enough? i can't live from moment to uncertain moment - or i can, but we don't live in the fucking moment, our minds are always somewhere else, on something else that has to be done, some other person that has to be fucking soothed. this is the age of sedation. i don't want to be coaxed out of a bad mood like a fucking kid, i don't want to be told to fucking forget about depressing things, i want a blazing fight, i want the anger, the passion, the energy. wtf is the point, otherwise?

alright. take your space and run with it. it doesn't really matter after all, does it? i'm the one who's not seeing things. it doesn't actually matter, after all, in the end, at the end.