MOVE

Picture editing is an art form too. Anything it takes to express myself. This was an ode to my influences. Where I set the standard for my future. View Larger

Picture editing is an art form too. Anything it takes to express myself. This was an ode to my influences. Where I set the standard for my future.


Don’t know

Where to write this (other than Tumblr) but I fucking hate myself. I loathe myself. I know it’s one of the worst things to say while breathing. But I just can’t believe my lows that I have picked myself, the holes I dug myself. Tonight I came to a point where tears just burst down my eyes…I cancelled every thing….I dreamed about tonight for two weeks.. But I just can’t be anyone’s burden. I hate dwelling on the fact that I don’t know if I’m a burden to people or if they really want to hang out with me. I hate asking for rides. I hate accepting them but I loathe the fact I have no other choice to at times. It eats me alive, slowly chipping away at my pride. To think only a few years back my phone would blow from a.m to next a.m with people wanting to hang out and do things. Now a couple years later I talk to a few set number of people but I feel like I burden them. It bothers me so much: I take the bus just to show up earlier and when they ask how I got there I say I got dropped off. Truth is I walk everywhere and I’m on the metro. I make on average about 1,200 or more a month- I can afford a car but why don’t I have one yet? My goals, My addiction. My impulsiveness to eat good and look good: Look at me, I’m pathetic. This is why it’s not about me anymore, this is why I’m so irrelevant, I can’t just be. I have to be great. I have to change culture. It’s the worse goal I’ve given myself…The abyss is infinite, the pain relentless, the rewards silent and not visible. Oh life: If it wasn’t for my newborn baby coming. I wouldn’t give a fuck about dying. I wouldn’t give a fuck about anything. I have to keep pushing. Because It’s not about me anymore.

Thursday night, 11:37 pm 2014