Whatever the hell THAT's suppose to mean. Sometimes thinking before typing seems hard.
You know, the 5 stages of grief/depression whatever seem to be like fucking 5 million. I think i've been having it under control for the last two days but there are brief moments when everything just erupts inside of me and I feel the urge to...analyze. Analyze death, life, time. All the philosphical bullshit that ends up in more bullshit, and then I just think of reasons to be unhappy and the reasons lack...well, reason, sometimes. They're just excuses or 'rocks' to further sink me down the lake of thoughts.
I've, the last year, always slept with my head filled with buzzing and flying thoughts and ideas that don't shut up, but they've been manageable. I guess the loss was harder for me to deal with then I thought it would be.
You always think you're so strong, and then it hits ya; you're only human.
Adios fair bloggito, another shining day to you.
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