out of ways and out of times, right?
suddenly i can't figure out every of my movement's meaning
nothing seems worth when i'm writing, talking, eating, sleeping,
or even laughing, smiling, crying, playing guitar, living.
i'm stuck in between
i just don't understand why should i be here at all.
right this moment i care none of the assignment
none of the activities
none of the daily life's
none of you none of me
and none of life.
end.
