and sometimes that's terribly disheartening.
perhaps it's the season, the earlier sunsets and later sunrises, the rain and mist and fog--but all i know is that i'm having a hard time convincing myself that there is a purpose to be found in breathing. i thought i would leave this "meaning of life" shit behind in high school, but apparently it follows you around.
it makes me want to smoke a pack of cigarettes and fill a sketch pad with drawings of happy people and old buildings. i don't know what's wrong with me.
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