Destroying myself one breath at a time.

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Twenty Two

So much has changed, so much is old and so much is new.

I don’t necessarily give a fuck, only that I feel like writing again.

Sitting here, at work, with only about an hour to go before i leave for the day, i am listening to Snow Patrol scream ‘I love this city tonight’ into my ears and i can’t help but feel alone.

Watching my life go by one year after another, i am torn apart by the feeling that nothing has really changed, notwithstanding the fact that i just contradicted the very first line of this comeback post – this change i refer to is more sinister in nature.

On the inside, i feel like the same fucking boy trying to get out of himself, occasionally giving into the pressure and convincing himself that there is nothing to come out of. But, there is.

I remember how writing rescued me once, perhaps twice is possibility?

*sigh* Remains to be seen!

 

 

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