I do a lot of nothing.
Yet I’m doing everything.
I draw, a lot.
Yesterday I drew like 12 pictures.
In probably about an hour.
I work, yeah, I do a lot of that.
I constantly feel like I’m sleeping,
I’m always tired.
and knee deep in shit that just doesn’t make sense.
I walk among you every day.
You would probably never question me nor my sanity.
You wouldn’t call me a danger to the public.
What about a danger to myself?
I’d say I’m no danger, but maybe I’m in the way.
Which is odd, because how can you be the one in the way of yourself?
Now I know it sounds preposterous, but let me tell you this:
It’s more than likely that no one else but you is in the way of who you really are.
And don’t tell me that I shouldn’t change between ‘me’ and ‘you’
Because I honestly don’t see a difference.