It's the itch. Stop drinking. Do not feed into it. And the song that plays " you can't run from yourself". What the fcuk. IM NOT RUNNING. And for the first time I see that I'm not running. But boy do I wish I had. I'm annoying myself! I'm so tired of hearing myself. I wish to hit myself with a silent stick. Turn down bitch! Uber drive me around all night. Give me a thorough driving tour of Boston. Keep playing those tunes. Street lights, statues, buildings. Montage. Take me home this isn't fun anymore. I don't want to ride this ride anymore. I miss the days when there were restrictions. No this ride doesn't give a fcuk. Life doesn't give two shits.
To think that this will occur again and again and again. The feeling of stifled voice. And clipped Achilles' tendon. Confusion, excessive aggression. I need to run. I need not to be here. Paranoid desperate. Trying to let God. My prayers become more and more pathetic. I can't lose it. I'm angry. And growing angrier by the second. How can one girl be so rich and still feel like she has nothing?
It's your perception, What you're choosing to focus on. I can't help but to choose her. And that's why I'm banging my head against the wall. I hate that I choose her all the time. I need to go.
Elyse
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