I think I may quit cigarettes.... maybe not... I want more xanax... I hate my careers... I miss the ocean... I am not me anymore... I am a cartoon drawing of myself from the past if I were mocking my future... I have a clean conscience... I have an empty soul that smells rotten from the remains... I am mocked by mortality as I brutalize the last clinging piece of sanity I have left, approaching a the end of a dead end road, my retina... witnessing the terrifying glory of reality... like a car that's out of gas and left on the side of the road with all the windows broken... I am God's Pinto...
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