these words come in random order
I think I'd forgotten how the good people are sometimes the saddest. I think it's the conscience.
God, I feel useless. What fucking consolation could I ever offer them? Especially while I myself am in this state. I used to sing in the shower. Now I panic and come out only to find out that I'm still as strange as I ever was, and that life is still what it's always been.
I may never be free of this growing apathy.
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