I hate being on the constant prowl. It makes me nauseous. But wait, if you said anything I could drop everything but I won’t think too hard, I won’t even really try or hope or look. Not my problem or in my hands. I’m at the forks and this place hasn’t got enough memories for me. Here’s to making more, breaking doors, and stepping on. It’s lust and attraction on the surface, but underneath it’s me being told by outside sources that it’s something I need to be happy and successful. I’m telling you right now that that’s going to die. Killing feelings with thoughts. Stealing freedom, grabbing change, finding time. The rational police are out patrolling this afternoon.
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