I've done this before. I didn't think I'd do it again. But once again it's happening. That must mean I live again. Get back what I lost again. I have to fix how I approach it and somehow make it better. Somehow make it worth it.
I'm back in my bed for the first time since Thursday night. It should be nice. Shouldn't it?
Does good art have to be completely vulnerable?
I'm a hater to to all the creators, so when you stand out and when you reach, I'll prey on your lifeblood, I'll be your own personal leech. With all of my conviction, the fear that I spread will find me gazing in the mirror laughing with dread.
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