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I stopped writing, I stopped drawing, I stopped trying to have deep insights about life. It's a hell of a lot easier to just memorize my drugs and grow up to be a pharmacist making 100k+ by 24. I only hop on tumblr when I'm feeling down, and I only realize how much my life lacks when I start to feel myself fall. Someone show me a good author.
"Oh what a wicked web we’ve wove.
From your mind all sanity they’ve drove.
For the laughs due to those not so strong.
To endure mind games, but not for long.
Now the tide it has turned, oh yes indeed.
Where before they all failed now they do succeed.
Now you see them through the slots in the door.
Rubber walls you shall know forever and more.
For you dabbled too deeply into their game.
And ended up with recognition, but surely not fame.
For soon they will forget all about you.
So those things that were stronger by far than were you.
Have now put you beyond the point of return.
And by selling out to them, yes in hell you must burn.
And it’s too bad now, yes you’ve sealed your fate.
When you denied your own maker then you were too late.
What a wicked web you’ve wove it’s so true.
If you could do it again tell me, what would you do?"
Allen D. Miller “Book of Counted Sorrows”
