Untitled
2 years ago
when i look at all my stuff that i love and i think i couldn’t live without i suddenly realize that i could live better without most of them than spend my life closed up in here cuz i don’t want to talk to my parents. i’m sick of them, sick of my room, sick of my neighborhood, i wish i would just take my guitar, my money, my clothes and mp3 player and go live in a van and be happy. i’m sick of my life here, of staring at the hospital-like white walls feeling lost inside myself and dreaming of how it would be if…
i want to break away, feel free, no strings attached, just let go.
