ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏʀᴄʜ

I've got all these things in my head and I don't know if it's the cause of my suffering, it might be a good factor of it. I get ripped apart by my own self and just about when I think I'm done an outsider grabs me by the collar and yanks me left and right, all around until I'm just shredded
But yeah, uh. I've been thinking about time all night, ever since I came home, cuddled with Miles some, and went outside for a bit, that's where I'm at currently.

Time's a scary thing, but I think we all know that anyway. So much time has passed and I haven't noticed. It's going by so rapidly and it makes me so choked up because, it's not that I'm wasting my life, but I feel. I don't know, like it's just terrifying, you can't stop it. No one can get in the way of time, and time holds events, and these events hold effects on your person. I don't want to change, I don't want to go through anything anymore. Maybe that's just my thoughts right now, maybe I'm just influenced by myself right now, you know. But for now, for this one night I'm out here on the porch with a cigarette in between my fingers, I'm scared of the future and what I can be and how tiring it all might be. But I don't think that's my main concern anyway.

I feel like I've never really known who I am, I feel like everyone's like that. How can I forget about who I am if I've never truly known from the start? Maybe I'm still that kid from Elementary, I think so. If not, I miss him, and I want to tell him things. What, specifically? I couldn't give you the answer. And I'm saying and thinking all these things but in the end all that's left is a kid sitting on his porch and thinking a little too hard and looking through the wrong pair of eyes. Don't get me wrong, I like not being a miserable sap, I love it. But sometimes I get worn down to truly just being a guy kicking dirt and looking at the rust on the chain-linked fence rather than the leaves on a tree, and I'm sorry for that.

As you can see, or probably guess by now, this is a casual sadness, I'm not going to try to make this all more dramatic than it actually is. I'm not going to say I broke down on this porch, because I'm just sat here, like I said. I'm doing nothing but smoking. There's nothing special about the smoke. I just am smoking. There might not even be anything special about this talk, I think I'm just trying to get out these thoughts while I can. I feel like tomorrow I'll be more dead than I think, I just can't seem to want to make it through nowadays.