half a bottle deep questioning the reality that i have laid out before myself. i wish i still partook in a copious amount of illicit drugs; my creative juices have hit a bottleneck and i have wrung myself dry without any lasting results.
i want to choose change over stagnation, because i’d rather be a coin that’s been flipped and fallen down a sewer drain, than one that’s stuck in syrup at the bottom of a car’s cup holder.