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fuck nostalgia
I stare at this and see in it almost every shade of wrong.
Your every day is my dystopian nightmare.
Where you are now, where I am now, is further apart than the thousands of miles that separate us in physicality.
Your face could be plastered on the side of a bus advertising how to do everything exactly the way you are supposed to.
You can't caste jump, no matter what anyone tells you.
I miss looking forward to things.
I miss passion and laughter and kindness and
I miss peace and quiet and clean and
I miss inspiration and motivation and care.
Do you miss anything, or is your bank account big enough that you're OK now?
I look at that face and wonder if you have any feelings left? You don't even look real anymore.
4:47 PM - Thursday, Nov. 01, 2018
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