by Zach Nerpel
There is no glamor in these… never-careful wounds we inflict upon ourselves.
You can know what you are doing is wrong, and do it anyway.
And picking up the pieces gets harder and harder… and harder, until it is impossible.
…..
That is why I am here to teach you about [INSERT_PASSION], and not speak on something in which I am not qualified.
You see, when considering [INSER~~~~~`~~~~~~““`1~~““
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…. ‘ ) __) ( _ – –
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Turn it all off.
…
You breathe deeply, knowing the mistakes you’ve made. Knowing the only one harmed was yourself, but you feel guilty. Nausea.
It used to fold into the next day, but you don’t catch it quite so fast anymore before throwing the hellhound another ball, something you must do lest you confront…
!~122113Aaw345 and.. try to…
Turn it… off..
You’ve been here before… made this same mistake. Promised everything and delivered nothing. And you wish… you keep wishing.
To turn it off. To turn it all off. To turn EVERYTHING off.
But the fact is, it all stays on. It stays on and it keeps staying on. All of the time, forever. Forever, so long as we are alive.
It might make you scream, but there isn’t a button.
You can’t turn it off.
I can’t turn it off.
…
But we can recognize this.
Still, I’m not… the guy to write about this. I won’t tell you that everything is going to be okay, or that there is a purpose for everyone. I don’t know anything about this. AT ALL!
Distribute the God damn drug testing kits freely, provide clean needles, provide safe spaces for addicts, etc. BUT I’M NOT A DAMN EXPERT!
THE FUCKING WENDY’S KRABBY PATTY MEAL IS JUST A “DAVE’S SINGLE” GOING OFF THE PICTURE. I’M TIRED OF IT ALL. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Don’t turn it off, though. I’m going to bed.
And waking up.
RRCC 