This week has been substance-less. Nothing but a Marc by Marc Jacobs wallet and a River Island blazer on my mind. Which saddens me really, as I question myself for the millionth time: What my life has become? Swimming in decadence and superficial satisfaction. Lost in artificial artifacts. For lack of a better term (still); a hollow existence. And the only true escape that doesn't require money, doing anything illegal or faking it, involves lying and secrecy. Rebellion gets us no where I suppose. Roar. The amount of space that is surrounding me is ironically overwhelming as the drift rears it's ugly head. Curt comments dripping in sarcasm, not out of insecurity but out of spite and bitterness. Ha. And I know this is contradicting (or the exact reason for this spacey-ness) but the constant flow of people moving swiftly through and around me is annoying me fuck. Okay I don't deny my attention and tolerance level is ridiculously short but too much of this fucking familiarity is forcing me to seek change in a refreshing form of familiarity elsewhere. I think I may have actually finally lost it.Singing, screaming, kissing, tugging
On the sleeve of how it used to be.
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