When I think of the things that I had, the things that I did, I see how I had another life. My life now is so strange, things feel so sterile. I am an outsider and I do not want to be an insider. But have I ever been an insider? Yes, sometimes.
What is this all worth? Why am I doing this? If I weren't doing this, what would I be doing? I feel so small, so alone. Like I'm stuck in this idiotic ambient where nothing you make matters and nothing you do is significant.
I am so lonely.
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