All this space makes me feel a little bit smothered, and when every other over used self reassurance fails to make my hands stop shaking, I tell myself that nothing matters and I say it like it's a good thing. I wonder if you could divide the world into the people who the meaninglessness comforts and the people who lie awake at night trying to find a loophole in their own insignifigance. Nothing makes me feel better than knowing huge mistakes aren't for someone like me to make, in 50 years no one will care if  I never amounted to anything. I hate to sound so fucking sad because I'm not, I'm just in the deep end of lonely. 

I'm going to spend my time writing shitty poetry in the green and yellow light of this slow closing honey trap, and people are going to read it and think someone like me could do better, but I never will and they'll stop expecting it. Whatever I say will be trite because anyone who is alone this much is running out of things to notice. I go for walks at night even though there's noone to make sure I come home. I'll keep taking whatever I find because I never knew when to stop. I'll be terrible at art and do it anyway because I want to. I'll stop telling people yes when I want to say no. I'll stop being afraid of things I know I can't run away from. I'll stop running away from things I don't want to think about. I don't care! I don't care! I don't care!