Sometimes when I pull away, I find it hard to get back in. It’s so peaceful and warm here in the shades, and the outside world blinds my eyes. Even with the promises of all the restless joy of the life I chose before, my feet are unable to leave the ground. I’ll be staying here, at least for a little while.

I guess I want to be miserable, I need to be miserable in some part of my life.
Now, didn’t I mention I was a drama queen?

So which one is better?
Fucked up living or living with fuck ups?


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