This is cancer, right? Whe you walk into those empty rooms and hope someone foll ows you in just to take notes. You can only check in so many times with an artif icial smile. And you want to believe that you're here for yourself, but you know better than that. You want to believe that the 40 hours isn't killing you day b y day, that the home you live in is your own, though you can't even paint the wa lls. I can hear you breathing and I know you hope it stops. I should have known since I was five and I watched those leaves hit the ground, and it was one of th e only times I ever felt alive. Now it's twenty years gone by. Two decades of de scent. Still waiting fore someone, something to prove me wrong. And I'd like to call you up, and tell you things that would make me look better than I'll ever f ucking be, but it's a waste of my time and yours. So lets see those eyes well up . Sons and daughters, this place needs a black flag just to break even. They're searching for all the wrong answers in a ribcage. Don't bother looking .. you wo n't fucking find me. You can't kill someone who's as good as dead. Check your fu cking backbone.
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