why am I doing this? If I already know no one will read it, what's my purpose?
I think I'm trying to perserve it, my mind or at least my thoughts now, to draw back on later. Because I'm not interesting, I'm not artistic or creative. I'm interested. In other people, in books, in movies, in psychology, in anantomy. I like everything and anything, except myself.
I don't care. If the world reads it and hates it. Says "get off my internet!" with a more vibrant tongue. It's a lot like wearing black when everyone else is in white. Though I'm sure there are more people like me. No one is ever really alone in the way they think. I'm just unable to find them, or they don't want me.
So what now? Do I still write? Do I continue this? Or is it in knowing that someone if just one person looks at this and thinks something of it. Anything of it, that thought alone is driving me along?
"He took a deep breath and blew on the demon joe, the drug that bore his father's name. He said a prayer to his various gods, steadied his hand.
Then he raised the mug to his lips and drank the bitter brew straight down."
yeah, it's a lot like that.
Title- kate Perry- Hot n' Cold
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