to the spirits of the dead, or to their memory.
i think being here is killing me.
it's been too long since i felt pure joy.
it's been too long since i looked forward to the horizon.
it's been too long since i had myself, a journal, some cash and a voice.
i still don't know why i'm here, why i don't just say "fuck you for making me wait and waste", why i don't kill it and move on.
i don't want to lose it. i wouldn't mind losing me. why do i waste my fucking time?