Lady Godiva's Operation.
I spend no time in my house. My house is simply my house - nothing more. My home has yet to be discovered again. I sleep in my bed, I eat the occasional disgust of dry noodles or canned vegetables, and then I trek from here to work and back again. Cycling in succession - even days of randomness and unplanned activity seemed forced and unnecessary. What am I trying to say? What the fuck am I even trying to say?
Today I will force music out of my tired hands. Today I will force conversations with long distance friends. Today I will skip out on the unusual and opt for the boring world. Today I will stop doubting that things can only get better. I feel angry and trapped. I feel distant and lost. I feel labeled with angst and sick with a disease of teenage weblogging. Today I can't get away, and this, I am quite certainly tired of.
Not wanting to talk. Not wanting to communicate. Not wanting to answer the endlessly ringing phone. Not wanting to even bother. Not knowing what to even bother with. Repeating. Repeating. Repeating.
So, is there a cure for this? Is there a way to look past sleep and rub the last few seconds of dreams from my eyes? Which way to finally start living life again?
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