Is it laziness, or what? That's got me waiting in the mud. Same existence. Stuck. Sometimes I debate on quitting, but maybe it's been done and I'm just waiting while my grave is getting dug. No aim or vision, just play like living's fun. Wasn't raised to live, I was made to witness drugs as way of getting up. Before I was aged, I'd sit and wonder of taking this or others could become a way of living. Suffered. It became my way of living. Others were busy making friends, had brothers, sisters. They were so open with their drug use, so focused on, 'we love you', I never did with out essentials. Now I notice that was trouble. I rebelled against the smell of it, was straight edge without the edge. It wasn't about being something pronounced, I didn't wanna mess with what had wrecked the best of what was left of my perception of normalcy. I protected their torment. Weaved sections and portions of me.
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