I’ve Compressed All of Time Into One Life

I’m trying to find the most interesting ways to waste my life.

 

Sitting still makes one very aware of the spinning earth and what it signifies.

I’ve learned to run and jump now I assume I can fly.

 

Play with people and things as if they matter.

Push work aside,

fill,

fill,

fill,

I’m always hungry.

I’m always looking.

I don’t want to see the future unless it’s filled with things that extend my existence.

 

I’m too temporary for my mind,

and haven’t learned what acceptance means,

except superficially.

 

 

ive just been thinking of lines. There’s no connection between them. I feel disjointed, though everything resembles itself. The same kind of existence. The same kind of boring. Not much satisfies purpose for an extended period. Justify anything you want as the world ends.

 

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I’ve Compressed All of Time Into One Life

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