often i sit at a table and stare and try to be quiet. i think there is supposed to be a voice that will tell me something useful, tell me something about myself, what i want in life or what i should do, but i just keep staring, staring at stationery on the table, a water bottle, staring at my laptop. i sit like this for an hour and a million thoughts have bullet sped through my mind but none of them tell me anything useful, and i still sit here. this physical scene is quite an accurate description of my life i think, i find that i sit and stare at the world, tearing up from the dust and smoke it leaves behind, but i still sit here, like on a curb, waiting for something, a car, to pick me up or knock me dead

someone tell me that some people are still worth investing something in even if it seems as if their owners have taken a trip out dilapidated doors for an indefinite period of time, even if there's no meat to scrape from the shells, even if their eyes are constantly dull and half-asleep and their mouths get smaller and smaller everyday from lack of use. someone say that it's ok to be like that, just for awhile, or maybe more than awhile